


inside of my heart (you're here)

by Sapphoric



Series: hold your stars (close to your heart) [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Defence Attorney Thomas, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Moving In Together, Mpreg, Past Drug Addiction, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Slow Burn, Social Worker Alexander, Trans John Laurens, Trans Male Character, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-01-09 17:46:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 135,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12281400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphoric/pseuds/Sapphoric
Summary: It all comes down to a relationship that Alexander never thought would go anywhere.Sometimes he goes out, has a few drinks, has a good time, and sometimes he'll even let Thomas Jefferson take him home and pretend that they both have something more than they do. It's casual and fun, and he's got no problem sweeping in all under the rug like it means nothing, if he gets to blow off a little steam every week or so.Unfortunately, sometimes it's not that easy.also includes casual sex, doting mothers, ikea catalogues, high-rise apartments, baby bumps, omelets, thomas jefferson's ridiculous scarf collection, not-so-casual sex, baby bump kisses, random acts of kindness, and falling in love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You'll never be far, I'm keeping you near, inside of my heart, you're here  
> Go on, It's got to be time, you're starting to shine cause what you've got is gold  
> \- Gold, Owl City.

Alexander had to remind himself to stay strong.

It was Saturday, nine am. It smelt like coffee grounds and cinnamon. Zoya behind the counter shot him a smile the second he walked through the door, which was honestly what reminded him in the first place. She was cute and tall, short wavy hair, rosy lipstick, chubby, had a strong penchant for sweaters with colourful swirls. She was so cute that it made him a bit weak-kneed sometimes, he liked her that much. Her smiles were always ridiculously abundant and bright and with the way she went all soft edged and quiet around him made Alexander think she might’ve liked him in different, more romantic, ways.

Which Alexander didn’t really get, because it was nine am on a Saturday, he’d had maybe three hours of sleep at most, and knew without a doubt that he looked like a racoon.

It certainly wasn’t the first time, either.

“Morning, Alex,” she said brightly, reaching for a large glass off the coffee machine. “Extra shot? Angelica’s not here yet.”

Alexander laughed and dug his hand into the small pocket of his bag for his wallet, feeling something akin to relief. Angelica was always drilling him about the amount of coffee he consumed in mere hours. He knew he was super biased, but it wasn’t something Alexander really understood. Especially when she’d drink just as much as him during the busy weeks at work.

“Oh, my god, please,” he drew out the s and handed her a fiver. “Keep the rest, I’ve had the shittiest week and no amount of bitching from her is going to change anything.”

Zoya laughed and went about making his coffee. He took the numbered card she gave him and found a spot by the window, dug his phone out of his pocket to check his emails. One message from Eliza popped up, of which Alexander got and didn’t get at the same time because it consisted only of emojis strung together. He had to laugh to himself as he counted five angry faces.

He’d missed out on Halloween drinks.  

Eliza had called him just as he got off work and begged him to make it, said that she wanted to see him in costume, which had made him snort loudly. He’d felt guilty, still did just a little bit. Had told her that he’d try, but the week had been long. He’d spent hours on the phone on Thursday, backwards and forwards between a family that weren’t quite sure they were ready to adopt the little girl they’d been looking after for the past three years. It broke him a little bit to see her so unsure and feeling entirely misplaced, even after so long. He couldn’t stop thinking about that.

He’d showered when he got home after Eliza had called and promised he’d try to be there, but then six turned into seven and Alex had pulled a beer from his tiny fridge and opened his laptop and didn’t think to take a break until it was turning eleven.

So, she was going to be mad, and Peggy was going to be mad (in less directive, loud ways, with fewer words and more glares from across the room) and Angelica was going to be.

Well.

Alexander had to remind himself to stay strong.  

He bothered with a response, a simple love heart and _I’m sorry_ , with the full knowledge that it wasn’t going to make a difference, then got stuck reading some files that his co-worker had emailed him last night. Found himself honestly a little too lazy and tired to give it much thought.

He set his phone down when Zoya came by with one tall glass for him and an espresso shot that she set down on the other side of the table.

Alexander smiled and touched her sleeve for a second. “Hey, you’re amazing, you know that, right?”

Zoya’s smile was big and close-lipped. Her shoulders caved in a little when she laughed softly.

“You’re welcome for the coffee,” she sighed and winked.

“No, no, listen. This has nothing to do with this wonderful and amazing coffee that you make for me, and everything to do with your smile and your purple overalls and the fact that you have a cat called Guillotine.”

Behind her, looking radiant and hot in a white, lowcut top, Angelica laughed and touched Zoya’s shoulder. “All true. But the coffee is always a lovely add-on.”

Zoya rolled her eyes and preened a little, and Alexander felt his affection for her brim when she crossed her arms over her chest a little defiantly.

“Is he like this with every barista that serves him?”

Angelica smirked as she took a seat opposite him. “Nope.”

Alexander watched, a little amused, as Zoya worked her jaw and tried not to look so flustered. She reached out and flicked his ear, throwing out a soft, “drink your coffee,” as she turned and walked away.

Alexander breathed out a laugh, picked up his glass and held it to his lips while Angelica turned back to him and gave him a stony look.

“What?”

“Alex, you’re gay. Quit being a heartbreaker.”

“Can’t help it,” he exhaled into his cup. “Besides, she already knows that.”

That didn’t placate Angelica in the slightest. “I don’t care. You’re going to confuse her if you keep that up.”

Alexander didn’t dignify her with an answer. “How was England?”

Angelica worked at an auction house called Christie's, which, for some reason he couldn’t wrap his head around, was important to her. She didn’t look it at all, but Alexander was surprised by how flat out and busy Angelica had been with her job over the past month or so. She’d been everywhere by this point, travelling mostly over Europe and Asia to attend dinners and auctions for collections of jewellery and bags and gems left by people that Alexander had never heard of in his life. He imagined it to be quite glamorous to be paid to travel over far places just to sell some old mirrors and necklaces that were once owned by a now dead queen.

Angelica shrugged like she always did, but her eyes shone and her face opened up more, “London was actually quite nice, to be honest. A little cold. I don’t think I’ve ever been more excited though. We had this beautiful collection owned by Francis Bacon, this one painting, and it hadn’t even been seen in decades. Oh, god, Alex, it was beautiful, honestly.” She laughed and sat back in her chair with her glass in hand.

“Anyway,” She took a sip and stared at him, “I know you don’t care, but- “

“Woah, red flag,” Alexander pulled a face and put his hand up for her to be quiet. “First, rude. Second, I don’t know shit about Francis Bacon, like, wasn’t he gay or something? But you always get excited about looking at pieces of weird things that cost millions because it was owned by someone that I’ll never be able to pronounce the name of, and I do care, thank you.”

“Shut up, asshole. You know exactly who Francis Bacon is,” she shot him an unamused look that made him laugh.

“But it got sold, right?”

Angelica smiled over the rim of her glass.

“Tell me,” he sipped his own drink and wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know. She’d told him, at some point, how much it was expected to go for, but he’d only been half listening when she started breaking out the millions.

“Guess,” she said and started rifling through her handbag.

“Why would I know? Twelve million?”

Angelica stopped and laughed so loud that the woman behind her jumped.

“Ang- “

“Come one, Alex. You know it’s higher than that. Give me some ridiculously senseless number.”

Alexander tried not to groan, “One hundred million.” He tried to look as unimpressed as possible.

“Hm,” she didn’t answer, leaned forward and shoved her phone in front of his face. “It’s called Study of Red Pope.”

Alexander put his coffee down and tried to make out what he was looking at. It was a painting, big, done in warmth swaths of red and burgundy and cream. Almost centre was a man looking off to the side into a mirror where another man stared back.  Both of their faces were scratched out and smudged. Alexander had no idea what he was looking at.

“I don’t get art, you know that. It’s ugly.”

Angelica scoffed and smacked his arm. “I’m changing the subject now because you’re being a cretin.”

“Well, my week was hell,” Alexander but in.

“Not about that. And I already know. Peggy told me,” Angelica smoothed down her hair as if it needed to be fixed. It was curled, dark and wavy.

“Last night.”

Alexander groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Please don’t.”

Angelica laughed haughtily, “No, no, I’m not going to give you shit. Eliza’s written a whole essay and I don’t want to steal her thunder. But,”

She paused and Alexander dropped his hands to stare at the strange expression on her face. Angelica looked like she was struggling to put something into words.

“What?”

“John,” was all she said.

Alexander nudged her foot under the table, “Which John, yours or mine?”

Angelica rolled her eyes, “He isn’t _your_ John, Alexander, and he’d hate it if he heard you say that. It’s just that something really weird happened yesterday and now I feel kind of bad.” Her voice pitched at the end like she was asking a question.

“Is he okay? I saw him only Thursday night.”

“And he didn’t tell you?” She sounded incredulous.

Alexander thought for a second, tried to pull up their past conversations throughout the week, pick out anything unusual. Nothing came up.

“Okay, listen,” Angelica sat forward in her seat and put her elbows on the table, and Alexander knew he was about to hear something good.

“So, I got into the airport yesterday at around midday, and since I didn’t have my car I was just going to catch a cab home. But I got out of arrivals and John was there!” Angelica was smiling now, her voice high and excited.

Alexander frowned, “At the airport?

“Yup! Just standing out in arrivals like everyone else. He was the first one to see me. Gave me a big hug and everything, and I just thought he was there to pick me up, but when I asked, he said,” she paused to laugh into her hand and Alexander kicked her shin gently.

“He said, ‘I’m here to pick up my boyfriend’.”

Alexander blanked for a second. Blinked. Waited.

“Wait- “

“His boyfriend, Alexander,” she whispered harshly. She had a huge grin plastered onto her face.

Wait. Alexander stared, waited for her to continue. When she didn’t, he almost started to laugh until he realised.

“Wait, he’s real?” He straightened in his seat, felt unbridled excitement and disbelief.

A little quieter, “He’s fucking real?”

Angelica giggled behind her hand.

“I met him, Alexander! We were on the same freaking plane! I couldn’t believe it. He came out and I don’t know what I was expecting but he’s fucking huge and- “she paused and squinted over his shoulder, “-hot. Like. Really hot.”

Alexander frowned, “Lafayette?

“Yup.”

Oh.

So…

Okay.

Alexander stared at her, almost wanted to believe that she was joking, but she looked so intense, leaning forward and smiling like she did when she was proud of someone.

John always mentioned a boyfriend, was never secretive about it. He’d first brought it up after his third trip to France, grinning from ear to ear and confessing that he’d been seeing someone that he’d met the first time he went over. Alexander had laughed, shoved his shoulder and demanded evidence, but John became so cagey about it, would only tell everyone his name and that he was some French nobleman with a long ass name and a fancy title.

That had probably been the point where Alexander had stopped believing him, and John knew that. He wasn’t secretive about a whole lot of things. His art was one, and he never spoke about his father more because of the bad blood there, less because it was something to keep for himself. It became a thing that everyone gently made fun of. Angelica and Alexander would even take turns to ask him a stupid question like, ‘oh, sure you’re free this Friday? No date plans with your hot French boyfriend?’ John, being John, would laugh along, sometimes even play along, and everyone would brush it aside and go on sort of believing him.

Alexander had always been suspicious. He knew that John was seeing someone, or, at the very least, talking to someone. The way he acted when he got a certain text on his phone, not wanting anyone to see, rushing into another room when he received a phone call. All this Alexander saw, but never thought much on because…

Well.

Because he expected John to tell him everything.

Angelica was tapping the table top and still talking, “John brought him over last night and he looked so smug, Alex. It was ridiculous. He was so excited, and I honest to god, for just a second, thought that it was a joke. That this guy was just playing along. But you seriously can’t fake the way they were, like, just being around each other.”

Angelica leaned into his face, gave him another phrased that ended like a question, “He was cute. They were cute together. And John was like the fucking blushing bride, he was glowing and laughing. And being cute?”

She stared at him for a long few seconds.

“Since when is John Laurens ever cute?”

Alexander couldn’t help it; he laughed loud and a little hysterical. John. John had a boyfriend. John’s boyfriend was real.

John’s hot, French boyfriend was in New York City right this second.

What the fuck.

“Okay, okay, so what’s he like? He isn’t a dick, is he?” Alexander asked, brushing his fingers over his wet eyelashes.

Angelica was still smiling comically. “Nope, he’s the loveliest guy I think I’ve ever met. His English is a pretty good, too, but he’s honestly so amazing. And John is smitten.”

Alexander leaned back in his chair, ran his fingers over his tied back hair and locked them behind his head. He was trying to picture a smitten John Laurens, shy and flustered.

Came up with nothing.

What the fuck.

“But he’s been so careful about it. And haven’t they supposedly been dating for, like, eleven months?” Alexander squinted, “He’s not actually royalty, though, is he?”

Angelica shook her head, “Nobility, not royalty. He’s a Marquis, whatever that means, but apparently, it’s hereditary. And I don’t know how long, but remember how we gave him shit about it on Valentine’s Day? So, months at least. I kind of can’t believe it either.”

“And everyone’s met him but me?”

Angelica shrugged, reaching over and draining the last of his Americano. She pulled a face as she set it back down.

Before she could answer, Ben sidled up to them with a dull smile, his frizzy hair spider webbing over one side of his face. He was the barista that worked alongside Zoya on Saturdays, and he was on Alexander’s top five ‘would punch in the face for laughs’ list because he had an uncanny ability to make sly racist comments about how hard it was to understand Zoya’s thick African accent.

Alexander wanted to stab him with a ballpoint pen.

 “Hey, can I get you guys anything else?”

Angelica scowled at him and Alexander tried not to laugh. “Two Americano’s,” She said shortly, barely looking at him.

“And, if she isn’t too busy,” She tacked on, “Maybe have Zoya bring it over. She smells nicer.”

Alexander almost laughed.

Ben pulled a sour face but said nothing, taking their empty glasses as he left.

“Anyway,” Angelica continued, glancing out to watch the few people pass by the window, “You can tonight. I know you don’t want to, but we’re still going out for drinks tonight and John’s assured me that they’ll both be coming. I’m ready to get blackout drunk.”

Alexander chuckled, rubbed the bridge of his nose. Despite the caffeine, he could still feel the exhaustion in the creases of his shoulders and his cheeks. He could go, had nothing else to do today but maybe catch a three-hour nap and finally finish a Netflix show. He didn’t even want to touch his computer until at least Sunday night. Getting blackout drunk didn’t sound so bad.

 “I’ll think about it,” He said and expected her to rise in her seat and start lecturing him about how much he’s disappeared lately. As if he didn’t already know, and no amount of lecturing was going to make him feel more inclined to go.

Instead, Angelica just shrugged. “Whatever, your choice, you loser asshole. But Eliza’s going to have your ass and I’m not going to jump to your defence. Peggy misses bitching about her boyfriend to you. Apparently, I’m not on your level.”

A pang of affection hit him. He missed that too.

When Zoya made her way over with two tall glasses, Alexander slumped in his chair in relief. Angelica shot him another blank look when he reached out and kissed the back of Zoya’s hand playfully, and Zoya laughed.

His mind was elsewhere when Angelica started talking about getting him a boyfriend.

* * *

 It was nearing noon by the time he made it home.

He slumped against the door as he closed it, dropped his bag by the table and started stripping out of his clothes. They ended up in a pile on the linoleum by the kitchen sink before he crawled under the covers of his tiny bed with his phone.

Before he passed out, he sent one final text to John:

**11:47  
You little asshole ur fucked**

* * *

 When Alexander woke, he stumbled blindly to the sink and ducked his mouth under the tap to drink from it. His head felt fuzzy, but he was warm and on the more positive side of being well rested. He slunk slowly back under the covers and buried his face in the pillow, breathing softly and waiting while he woke up fully.

His phone sat face up on the bedside drawers, blinking softly every few seconds. Alexander picked it up, was vaguely surprised that it was well past four, before he opened his messages.

One from Angelica at one pm:

_76 million pounds_

Which made him snort into the covers once he got his groggy brain around what she was talking about.

The painting by Francis Bacon.

Jesus.

The next string of texts was by John. Three sent in quick succession mere minutes after Alexander had texted him in the first place.

_11:50  
_ _Flattered but sorry im taken_

_11:50  
;)_

_11:50  
Come tonight? Want you to meet him. Youll like him i promise_

Sent back a smiley face and a thumbs up.

Alexander only managed to get a glimpse of the last message before he dropped his phone over the bed and buried his face back into the bedding. One new message that started:

_12:16  
Alexander, you’re being way t…_

The number wasn’t saved into his phone, but he’d been receiving texts from it for the past few weeks, some that he’d returned, some that he hadn’t. It was exhausting and left Alexander in a state of confusion more than anything.

Thomas Jefferson texted him like they were almost friends.

Okay, wait, no, maybe that wasn’t right. They were friends, right? They hung out together within the group, could talk kindly to each other in a conversation, made jokes at the expense of others.

Had casual sex almost every week.

Things had mellowed out between them, became blurry around the edges. Thomas bought him drinks, didn’t rise to bait him when he was talking, ordered him an uber when Alexander was drunk and just about to leave for the train. Call him stupidly affectionate names when no one else was really paying attention to what they were saying to each other.

Started texting him.

Angelica and John, the two being the most invasive, had cornered him about it at different times, questioned what had changed, why they were suddenly so super friendly.

Alexander wondered the same thing, honestly.

He’d been at the tail end of his heat when it started. That first time going home with Thomas that started all their friendly banter and drunk late-night encounters.

Coming down from being constantly aroused and slick, settling into the post-heat haze of being relaxed and loose-limbed, he’d taken his suppressants from that point, convinced that it wasn’t going to make a difference if he wasn’t still completely out of it. It was Friday, and he’d wanted to shower and leave his shoe box apartment, get drunk and sing crappy karaoke songs as loud as he could with Eliza, dance and sweat the rest of it out.

He hadn’t been completely drunk, but he’d sung and danced and flirted with the beta serving shots at the bar so smoothly that Alexander left with his number. When he’d stumbled into Thomas as they were leaving, Alexander pressed between a sleepy Peggy and laughing Hercules, the time nearing two am, he hadn’t said no when Thomas had pulled him close, both of them swaying, and asked Alexander to come home with him. His brain refusing to process that this was Thomas Jefferson that was almost certainly propositioning him.

When Thomas had pressed him up against the doorway of his bedroom and kissed him, hard and deep and warm, ferocious and possessive, Alexander had been ready for it. He’d been ready, not in the sense that he knew it might happen here in this room with Thomas Jefferson, but that he’d wanted it for as far back as he could remember.

They’d ended up on the bed, laying on their side, Thomas plastered to his back, holding Alexander steady as Thomas fucked him hard and slow, pinched his nipples, pressed wet kisses into the back of his neck. The slow and unrelenting pressure against his prostate had him squirming so hard that Thomas had to wrap an arm around his waist and hold him down.

It hadn’t just been his heat. Alexander had forgotten that it could be like that. That he could _feel_ like that.

When he came, it was to Thomas rocking him gently back against his knot.

The electric razor sensation of teeth biting into his neck, of heat and pheromones and being stretched open so wide. His orgasm was a full body thing that had wracked itself from his abdomen to his toes, his wet cheeks tingling.

Thomas had kissed his neck, softer, rubbed his hip, whispered sweet things into Alexander’s ear that made him feel soft and _owned._ Kept calling him _darlin’_ until it had imprinted onto his brain.

When he woke the next morning, late, he was sore. He’d slipped out from under Thomas’ arm and left still feeling woozy and achy. Almost bypassed the shame until it hit him full force that night in his little bathroom, his fingers over the dark bruise on his neck. Not a bond bite, but close, close.

So.

Things had changed since then.

Alexander’s fear and confusion had slowly turned into acceptable as the weeks passed. As they kept seeing each other and things got more comfortable and repetitive.

It got awkward before it got better. The first time they saw each other after his heat, Alexander hadn’t been able to look in Thomas’s direction even slightly. They’d talked around each other until Alexander got so drunk that his words had started to slur. He’d been loose and relaxed, had danced with Eliza, talked Peggy into doing shots with him because she never did, begged John (unsuccessfully) to braid his hair. Angelica laughing and drunk as well had taken pity on him and did it instead.  Didn’t once make eye contact with Thomas’ until the end of the night when it was just him, Thomas and Angelica.

She’d ordered an uber, kissed them both on the cheeks and was gone once Alexander had been able to convince her that he’d be fine taking the train home.

When Thomas had kissed him the moment her car was out of sight, Alexander hadn’t realised how keyed up he’d been, how much he wanted it, until he woke up in Thomas’s bed early the next morning.

* * *

 The Harp was a bar and nightclub in Lower Manhattan.

It was cosy and warm. And big. Bigger than any bar Alexander had ever been in. On one side was the bar and the stage where they had the karaoke performances and a long stairwell that led into the basement nightclub, and on the other side was another dancefloor.

They’d all been meeting each other there since college. Just him and John and Hercules first. Then Eliza and Angelica, Peggy’s boyfriend at one point; James, Thomas and Martha, even though she and Thomas weren’t together anymore. It was a big group, familiar, and the bartenders all knew them by name. It was comfortable.

It was a shock when Alexander arrived and caught John by the bar with a drink in one hand, and the lapels of another guy’s coat in the other.

_Lafayette,_ Alexander thought, with cold recognition of the fact that their sacred circle was about to be broken by some stranger John had picked up on a holiday in France.

John’s hair was pulled back into a messy, curly bun at the base of his neck. He was smiling, talking, swaying on his feet a little, right hand curled around a half-full pint glass. Alexander couldn’t quite catch the expression on Lafayette’s face tilted the other way, but he was standing stock still, an arm disappearing into the folds of John’s leather jacket. He was so big Alexander almost laughed at the way he towered over John.

“And he appears!”

Alexander jumped at the hand that slapped his back. Eliza swung around to face him, her arm snaking around his waist, her face smiley and bright.

“Oh, hello,” Alexander tried not to laugh at the way her face was scrunched up into a scowl when she got a good look at him.

“Hello to you too, dear. Good to finally see you.” Her enthusiasm was fake, but Alexander beamed at her anyway.

“Isn’t it always? I’ve missed your beautiful face.”

“Yeah, nice try. Flattery isn’t going to work. Where the hell were you last night?

She did look beautiful, Alexander noted. More than usual anyway. Her eyes were done up in a thick dark brown, her lips a bright red, and she’d curled her hair almost the same as Angelica.

“Work,” he muttered, almost silently against the comfortable din of the bar. Alexander curled his arm around her shoulders and pulled so that she was cuddled against his side.

Eliza scoffed and waved at John as he caught sight of them, “You don’t work 14 hours a day, Alex.”

Alexander didn’t reply. He chewed his lip, feeling a little guilty, as Eliza started steering them towards the bar. He wanted to tell her about work. About trying to find ten-year-old Cori a home and not running himself into the ground whenever his new family got sick of him. About his crush on a co-worker and that his boss’s mother just passed away and how nothing fit for him now. He wanted to say he had a good excuse, but sometimes that was hard for Eliza to understand.

 “Lafayette!” Eliza sprung to hug him. Alexander thought she looked quite comical standing on her tiptoes, trying to wrap her arms around his neck and only reaching his broad shoulders. Lafayette had to bend at the waist just to kiss her on both cheeks.

“Hey, man,” Alexander smiled broadly as John pulled him into a quick hug. The scarf he’d wrapped around his neck under his jacket smelt like washing detergent and even though it was messy, Alexander could smell the coconut of his shampoo. Alexander held him close.

“How much are you paying this guy?” He snickered into John’s ear by way of greeting. John pulled back and gave him a scathing look and Alexander laughed.

“Alexander,” John started loudly, scowling, his voice low, “this is my boyfriend, Lafayette.”

John’s tone almost made him laugh harder.

Alexander turned towards him and Lafayette held Eliza by one shoulder, reached forward to shake Alexanders hand with the other. He was tall and big. Dark skin, ridiculously curly hair pulled back. He was wearing a navy coat, a checkered black and white scarf, his beard short and rough. And glasses.

Holy shit the glasses.

The glasses and the _arms._

Not that it was severely evident, or that he got that long to stare before it became awkward, but Alexander wanted to, almost tempted, to run a hand from Lafayette’s shoulder to his wrist, just to feel the muscle.

“Alexander, finally we meet.” Lafayette’s smile was wide and he spoke with a very prominent French accent.

“Good to meet you. I got to admit, for a while I didn’t really think that you were real,” Alexander reached out to shake his hand.

Lafayette laughed, “John has told me all about it. Apparently, he likes keeping you on your toes.”

Alexander snorted and dug his elbow into John’s side. “Yeah, you must be special though, man. John only gets cagey about things that matter to him.”

He caught Lafayette’s soft smile before John shoved him. Alexander laughed as John caught Lafayette’s sleeve and pulled.

“Okay, okay, hurry up and get your drinks. Laf and I are going over to save Peggy. She’s getting weird because her boyfriend is here.”

Alexander almost groaned. Lafayette’s brows pulled down in confusion. Alexander let them slide passed and cuddled up next to Eliza while they waited to be served.

Eliza was quiet until they both had their drinks.

“Alexander.”

He turned to look at her, still standing by the bar, wine glass in hand. It wasn’t so crowded yet, but it was getting there.

Alexander immediately felt the guilt.

“I know, Betsey. I’m sorry, I know.”

Eliza was frowning at him, her brows creased in worry. Alexander had been expecting her to angry, maybe annoyed. Not this.

He hated disappointing her.

“I want to see you more. This is the first time in three weeks. You barely text. You said you’d try.” Her hip bumped into the bar. He realised she wasn’t going to move until they had this conversation.

Alexander leaned his back against the bar next to her, eyes cast down towards her shoes.

“I know works isn’t easy- “

“Eliza- “

“-But you know it’s just work, right? You don’t always have to bring it home.”

_Yes, I do,_ he thought bitterly, tracing the condensation on his glass. _Who else is going to?_

Alexander knew that he got maybe a little too caught up in his work. But it had been hard for him to when he was going through the system, trying to find a place with a family that he knew was only temporary. He hadn’t felt like he fit anywhere after his mother passed. He wanted to piece people together. Wanted to put them where they belonged. Maybe he didn’t mind running himself into the ground just a little.

Alexander sighed.

Eliza caught his wrist and squeezed, “You’ve been okay, yeah? I’m not trying to be condescending or anything. I just care about you.”

He looked at her, trying to find the right answer. Eliza threaded their fingers together.

“Don’t be mad? Last time you disappeared it really freaked me out. I don’t want you to think you can’t talk to me. If you’re in a slump or starting to feel- “

“Eliza,” Alexander straightened. She startled and stood up with him, face pulled up in confusion. Like she didn’t know where to get the right words. This was not what the conversations was going to turn into. He’d avoided it this far.

He didn’t want to think about last time, whatever that meant. That had been different.

“I’m not,” he said, his voice distant. He wanted to be gentler about it, knew that Eliza always took other people’s problems personally. She was the wrong person to talk to about his past addictions. To talk about long-standing addictions or problems in general.

Eliza glanced away to some place over his shoulder. Alexander tugged her hand.

“It’s fine. I’ll be better. Work’s been hard lately.”

Her smile was wane. He knew she wasn’t going to drop it.

* * *

 Alexander ended up squeezed between Martha and Peggy’s asshole boyfriend.

The table they sat at was round, but to his left was Martha, John and Lafayette and Eliza, the latter three all in a very deep conversation about postal systems (or something along those lines. Honestly, Alexander had checked out the moment it had started.) Angelica was sitting in between Eliza and Peggy, gesticulating wildly. Alexander could see that Angelica was trying to listen in to Thomas, who was painfully and with an obvious painful look on his face, trying to draw Peggy’s asshole boyfriend into a conversation.

James and Hercules hadn’t been able to make it.

Martha leaned into his side and whispered, “Hey so, ah, don’t tell anyone I said this, but why does John’s boyfriend kind of look like Thomas’s long-lost twin?”

Alexander laughed loudly, hadn’t been expecting it at all. John looked over at them and glared unknowingly. Alexander smiled widely at him and took a good look at Lafayette. The hair, maybe the eyes, not much else.

Alexander turned to look at Martha, “Maybe? I can’t really see it?”

She smiled around the rim of her wine glass, staining it with her pink lipstick. Martha, Alexander noted, always looked nice, no matter what she wore. She had fine hair that she liked to curl into soft ringlets, which was usually accented by shades of green. Alexander wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her wearing anything other than a dress.

“Thomas lived in France for some time, didn’t he?” He asked, turning to slyly look in Lafayette’s direction.

“Yes, when he was younger. Lafayette is clearly the better looking of the two. Also,” she smacked his arm lightly, “I’m pretty sure these two are in love.”

Alexander glanced back over to them. John was leaning into Lafayette’s side, listening to Eliza, with his arms folded. Lafayette had one hand around his drink, the other curled around John’s neck, where Alexander could see he was rubbing gently. It was interesting to see the way they folded into each other so naturally, the way they filled the space in between their bodies. Alexander hadn’t seen John look that comfortable before. He warmed at the sight.

“I want that,” Martha muttered a little sullenly. Alexander grinned when she threw back the rest of her chardonnay.

He leaned in, “What, Thomas was never enough for you?”

Alexander brought his hand up to lay it across the back of her chair and twirl a piece of her hair around his finger, his grin wide and teasing. Martha scoffed and smacked his hand away.

“Is he enough for _you_?” She whispered, eyes narrow.

Oh.

Alexander felt his face heat up. He took his arm down and scoffed as he brought his glass to his lips, trying to act casual.

Trying.

Martha’s eyes were soft. “Don’t be embarrassed, baby.”

So, she knew. Alexander flushed, had to lock his jaw to avoid sputtering something stupid. He knew they weren’t always so subtle sometimes, but no one else downright knew about it besides Hercules. Hercules who would pat him on the back and shoot him a silent _hey, you and Thomas are fucking almost every week. What’s with that?_ But never actually bring it up.

Alexander curled his hands around his glass to give himself something to do.

“Yeah…” He said, a little offhandedly, not for any real reason. He didn’t know what to say.

Martha laughed quietly, “good.”

Alexander frowned. He let her drop it, even though he thought to tell her that he wasn’t talking about her question.

* * *

 Angelica, true to her word, did get blackout drunk.  

It was getting late. Peggy and her boyfriend had left an hour before in a huff, John and Lafayette were still cuddled up next to each other, watching Alexander and laughing, and Eliza was giggling into her hand while Thomas spoke to her in a soft voice.

They’d spent almost an entire hour baiting Lafayette about French culture, which he’d taken with a grain of salt. John was still kicking Alexander under the table after he’d told the story of awkward college John not being able to deal with having feelings for other people.

Lafayette, in turn, told the story of awkward adult John trying to ask him out on a date the night before he flew back to New York.

Alexander decided that he really liked Lafayette.

He couldn’t remember how long-ago John first mentioned him. Sometime before last Christmas, maybe before Thanksgiving. Alexander wasn’t sure what he expected, wasn’t like he had a whole lot of time to think about the fact that John’s boyfriend was real and that he’d be meeting him.

But he cared for John a lot.

Not that Alexander asked, not that it needed to be said. It was the weirdest thing for Alexander to witness John be so friendly and affection with someone. He was almost shy about it, they way Lafayette would lay a hand on him or speak so reverently about him. Like it was different now because he was sharing this with his friends.

Alexander hadn’t realised until now how much Lafayette was important to him. He was nothing but happy for it.

Angelica and Martha, sitting on either side of him because at this point they’d all moved around enough, were trying to bait Alexander into rating guys that Martha had up on her Tinder.

And he was just on the right side of drunk to do it.

“Okay, this one.”

Martha shoved her phone in his face. On the screen was a white guy, short blond hair, dark eyes. His smile was wide, stubby nose and the shot looked like it had been cropped from something bigger.

Alexander shrugged, “eight?” It was late. He wasn’t feeling committed.

Angelica laughed loudly. “Eight? That’s the highest you’ve given. Martha, swipe right, don’t even look at his bio. We’re getting Alex a hot date!”

She concluded this by swinging her bottle of Desperado in the air above her head. Martha giggled and swiped.

“Martha dear, this is your profile, yeah? More than half these guys are straight and don’t know who the fuck I am.”

Martha shrugged. Alexander laughed and drained the rest of his pint.

“Okay,” he set his glass down hard, “Ladies, I’m done. I’m married to my job anyway, so, as much as I hate to say this, it’s all pointless.”

Angelica snagged his sleeve and tugged. “Alex, listen, we’re just trying to do you good. We love you. We want to see you healthy and happy. We hate seeing you so lonely and sad.”

Alexander tried not to scowl. He barely got the end of her sentence due to her increasing laughter as she spoke.

Across the table, John laughed and leaned forward.

“Alex, you poor lonely baby.”

Alexander stuck up his middle finger. Angelica perked up beside him.

“John Laurens, you better not be making fun of me. I’m genuinely worried for Alex’s mental state- “

She was cut off as John snorted, sitting back in his chair and holding his stomach while he giggled. Lafayette watched with an amused expression.

Alexander turned and scowled at Angelica.

“Um, Ang? Shut the fuck up? I’m not going to kill myself just because I’m single?” He was trying for sarcastic, but Angelica shook her head, placed a hand on his shoulder and raised her drink again.

“Alex, this is serious. I will be here for you no matter what- “ Alex felt Martha put a hand on his other shoulder “-and we, as your friends, will not let you die lonely and single.”

John, Martha and Angelica all laughed, and Alexander smiled despite how much he didn’t want to encourage her. It wasn’t even that funny, but he was well above tipsy and warm.  Angelica got weirdly stupid when she was drunk. Like she was trying to sound dumb and smart at the same time.

“Hey Lafayette,” Alexander leaned forward and tipped his head into his palm, eyes hooded. Lafayette gave him a smile.

“The girls and I were just wondering,” Knowing John barely got the language, Alexander asked the rest of his question in French, “ _how much John’s paying you? You know, to date him? He likes you a lot, always fucking talks about you and your hair and how good you are at fingering him_.”

Lafayette laughed and John sputtered and sat forward, giving Alexander a deadly look that only made him laugh harder as he spoke.

“What are you saying, Alex? I know you’re talking about me.”

“ _He said that to you? In those words_?” Lafayette asked, still in French, looking riveted, ignored John shoving his shoulder.

“Laf, don’t encourage him if he’s being an asshole.”

“ _Well, he tries to be subtle about it, but yeah_.”

“Alexander, quit talking shit about John to his boyfriend,” Eliza piped in, her face stern. John gave Alexander the finger.

“You don’t even know what we’re talking about? You and Thomas are too busy comparing dick sizes. Stay out of our conversation.” Alexander tried to catch Thomas’ eye across the table but was unsuccessful. He was too busy inspecting his almost empty glass.

Eliza sounded annoyed when she spoke. Alexander guessed that her and Lafayette we’re the least intoxicated out of all of them.

“Lafayette, please ignore him. He’s always trying to start shit. And- “she tacked on like it was necessary, “-I don’t have a dick.”

Martha, Angelica and Alexander laughed. Lafayette gave her a kind smile.

“I’ll keep all that in mind, thank you, dear.”

Eliza flushed. Thomas reached up and pulled her hair to get her attention again. Alexander only caught the end of her sighing, “maybe it’s just a new type,” before they descended back into whispers.

Thomas was being weird tonight. Weird and cagey, frowning like he couldn’t stop thinking about something. He’d caught Alexander in the hallway between the bathroom and the bar earlier in the evening. He’d been fine up until that point.

Too early, because Alexander hadn’t even been tipsy by that point, and Thomas had just wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled them together.

Alexander had stuttered, wanting to say something rude and defensive, but Thomas had leaned down and bitten his neck softly and Alexander had almost melted. He could smell Thomas; something like pine and ash, like outdoors, and so, so good. So enticing.

Thomas had kissed his glands, all tongue, but he’d been tense.

When he pulled back he’d given Alexander a strange look and asked if he was on suppressants, and Alexander, cheeks hot with embarrassment, had shoved him gently and muttered that he was, before he had slipped away from Thomas as quick as he could.

Thomas had only caught his eye once after that.

Alexander tried not to think too much into it.

* * *

 

Everyone started to pitter off as the night got deeper. First John and Lafayette after Alexander had made another comment about their sex lives. Alexander guessed they’d gone home to have sex.

Angelica after that, patting Alexander on the shoulder with a quick “book that doctor’s appointment” before she was gone.

Eliza and Thomas were still in conversation when they all bundled up in their coats and scarves and made it outside, ignoring him and Martha. Eliza yawned, sighed about her tooth hurting and hailed a cab.

Martha squeezed his hand.

There weren’t a whole lot of times that Alexander felt like he needed to be drunk just to get through something.

Karaoke was one. Listening to Angelica talk about 19th-century art was another. Anything to do with Peggy’s boyfriend was always high on the list.

Having sex with Thomas Jefferson used to take the cake.

Which probably wasn’t great, but he felt anxious now. He wasn’t quite sure whether he wanted to deal with the aftermath or the waking up in another person’s bed. If he was drunk enough, he wouldn’t have to think about his weird, off-to-the-side relationship with Thomas Jefferson.

Or- whatever this was.

But sex with Thomas was always easier than thinking (and, in all cases, talking) about sex with Thomas.

Which is also why, standing out in the cold November air wrapped around a shivering Thomas, Alexander wished he’d taken up Eliza’s offer of another round.

Instead, he’d said no, like an idiot, because his head had been spinning and he couldn’t fathom eating or even smelling the tapas and chips they’d bought. He thought he’d throw up if he did anything besides breath. He thought he’d be fine.

But he wasn’t.

Because Thomas was still being weird and Alexander wasn’t quite drunk enough to deal with it.

The pub was closing, they were waiting for the uber, and Thomas had Alexander against the cold brick, pushing down his scarf and sweater just so he could suck hickeys into Alexanders collarbone.

Which was fine by Alexander, but Thomas never did things like this. He was being mechanical and rough. When everyone else left, Thomas would flirt with him a little, shove his cold hands along Alexanders back to tease him, call him stupid little pet names, wouldn’t kiss him or touch him anywhere else until they were back at Thomas’ apartment. Sometimes his hand would find Alexander’s knee in the car.

Wouldn’t ignore him.

He’d looked faraway when Martha left, kissing Alexander’s cheek and frowning at Thomas. Alexander had tried to lighten the mood, made a comment about going home if Thomas had other plans. Thomas had glared and pulled him in. Alexander had been expecting a kiss.

“Can you quit being an asshole,” Alexander muttered, shoving at Thomas’s chest. Thomas pulled back. The skin around Alexander’s neck ached unpleasantly.

“What?” Thomas looked dazed.

“You’re hurting me. What’s wrong? You’re being weird.”

Thomas looked like he wanted to sneer.

Alexander fixed his scarf and coat, didn’t wait for Thomas to answer. He almost felt the shame, like he finally couldn’t ignore this thing they had going on but refuse to talk about. Like he had a chance to turn Thomas down and end it.

But Thomas grabbed his hand and whispered a gruff apology, and he instinctively forgot about it.

Alexander, sitting in the back of the car, Thomas’ hand in his, almost wished that he’d just gone home instead.


	2. Chapter 2

Thomas lived in some ridiculously expensive high-rise apartment in the financial district. Alexander didn’t know how much the rent was, but he was certain it was at least double what he earnt a month.

He dropped Alexander’s hand once that made it into the lobby, the doorman eyeing them wearily when they passed towards the elevators. Alexander offered a little smile, not quite as embarrassed as he should’ve been about the fact that the doorman had to know why he was there in the first place.

Alexander was feeling charged, heated, when they stepped in, just the two of them. The ride over had been quiet, but Thomas’s hand in his had been insistent, rubbing circles over his palm, his wrist, running along his fingers. Alexander wanted those fingers everywhere else. Wanted to grab Thomas’s hand and place it somewhere else, wanted those fingers along his spine or his neck.

He watched Thomas press the button for the sixth floor, stared of into space, grinning a little, fingers itching. There was a delay as the door closed, a clang, and then Alexander turned and reached for the lapels of Thomas’s coat, reeling him in.

Thomas, tall and caught off guard, stumbled into him hard. They both staggered to one side, Alexander’s back bumping into the mirrored wall. He got his hands around Thomas’s neck, pulling him forward until their lips met.

“Alex,” Thomas laughed against his mouth, straightening a little, arms winding around Alexander’s waist, kiss hard and wet. Alexander grinned, lips parting, tongue pressing into his mouth. Thomas kissed with a fervour, holding them together as tight as he could.

Alexander wasn’t paying attention to the number of floors they were passing. He was too caught up in Thomas biting him, the scent that was heady and strong and had him feeling dazed. He didn’t really hear the clang as the elevator doors opened. Only realised when Thomas grabbed his wrist and broke the kiss. Alexander followed unsteadily, trying to find his breathe, as Thomas pulled him along the hallway. The jingle of keys, Thomas’s hand momentarily gone as he struggled with the lock. Alexander laughed quietly.

The door swung open and Thomas pulled him in, still grinning, eyes dark. Alexander closed the door behind them, heard the click of the heavy lock setting back into place. Thomas had him then, pressing him back into a hard kiss.

Alexander was aware, vaguely, mostly from experience, that he was pressed up against the closet door in the foyer. Thomas had both hands under his shirt, pressed tight against the small of his back. Like this, Alexander didn’t have much room. He pulled at Thomas’s coat, trying to tug it from his shoulders. Thomas grunted into the kiss, moving his hands away so he could help push it off.

The scent was getting to him; rich and enticing. Alexander pulled Thomas down by his sweater and started pressing wet kisses to his neck, trying to bury his nose into Thomas’s glands. Thomas moaned and leaned further down, tilting his head so Alexander could bite kisses along his ear. He cinched one arm around Alexander’s waist, the other buried in Alexander’s hair. He turned his head so he could press kisses into it.

The bedroom was adjacent the foyer; Alexander curled a hand through Thomas’s hair so that he could pull Thomas off and walk him back towards the open bedroom. It was dark, neither of them had bothered to turn on the lights, but lights from parallel buildings shone in through the open curtain.  

When Alexander got him through the doorway, Thomas let go so that he could push Alexander’s coat off. He leaned down to suck at Alexanders bottom lip, both breathing heavy and thick in the air between them.

Alexander moved back to let Thomas pull his own shirt over his head, leaned forward to press kisses to his chest. Thomas stilled, hands curling into Alexanders sweater and shirt as if he was going to pull it off. Thomas was all muscle and hard warm skin. From memory, Alexander traced his tongue over Thomas’s clavicle, trying to picture the tattoo he glimpsed countless times in the early hours of the morning as he was getting dressed to leave. A simple, fanning outline of flowers that he didn’t know the name of.

“Come here,” Thomas muttered, still grasping Alexander’s sweater, moving back so that he could sit on the bed. Alexander followed, pulse racing. He let Thomas push up his shirt and kiss along his hip, moaned softly when Thomas bit him. Alexander loved when it hurt, when it left purpling marks on his skin. He didn’t get it often, but when he did it made everything so much better. He suspected that it had something to do with the first time Thomas had left a mark on him.

Alexander tried to make it rough. He shrugged out of his sweater and t-shirt, dropped them on the ground so he could dig his fingernails into Thomas’s shoulders and push him back. Thomas laughed across his stomach, didn’t budge, let go of Alexander’s hips so Thomas could grasp his wrists and squeeze until he let go. Alexander leaned in closer, panting quietly, excitable, as Thomas held him tight. Tight enough, Alexander hoped, to leave a bruise.

Alexander leaned down instead, and Thomas met him halfway for a kiss. It put him at a weird angle, his back bent low. Thomas let go of Alexander’s wrists, let them drape over his shoulders so that he could start working on undoing Alexander jeans. Alexander moaned, fingers brushing against him as his pants were pulled down. He wasn’t quite hard yet, but now that his clothes were almost off, he knew it wouldn’t be long.

The kiss broke so that Thomas could lean down and undo the laces on both of their shoes. Alexander kicked his own off, using Thomas as leverage so he could peel off his socks and step out of his pants. As soon as he stood up in nothing but his briefs, Thomas grabbed onto his hips and yanked him forward, helped Alexander get both knees up onto the bed so that when Thomas laid back, Alexander was hovering over him.  Thomas bent him down until their lips met, fingers in his hair, pulling out the elastic, fisting the hair at his scalp.

Alexander felt jittery now, from the alcohol and how much he wanted to do this, wanted to bite, make it rough. Thomas held his head steady. It almost wasn’t enough; Alexander was close to growling, slapping his shoulder and telling him to hurry up, to stop being so gentle and slow. Thomas was very rarely gentle about things. He liked to be rough, push Alexander around, make him do whatever Thomas wanted. Alexander was loath to admit how much he loved it. Loved being denied and fighting for it.

Thomas was very good at denying him.

Alexander scowled, pulled back so he could sit back on Thomas’s thighs instead of hover on his knees. Thomas let him; grip still tight in Alexanders hair and Alexander bit back his moan at the pull. He pressed his palm against the front of Thomas’s pants just to feel how hard he was. Thomas let go of Alexander's hair to undo them and shove them down his legs, kicking them off when Alexander moved out of the way. He leaned down to bury his face into Thomas’s neck, press his tongue against the glands. Thomas squeezed his ass with both hands, pushed his hips down. Alexander moaned with the friction it put on his cock, could feel how hard Thomas was against his hip.

Alexander almost flailed as Thomas caught him around the waist and shoved off the bed, sitting up slightly so he could roll Alexander onto his back. Alexander leaned up to kiss him, buried his hands into Thomas’s hair, and Thomas kissed him back fiercely.

Thomas pulled back to press his lips against Alexanders clavicle, pressed wet, biting kisses into Alexander’s skin as he made his way down. He hooked his fingers into Alexander’s briefs and tugged, pulling them down his legs. Thomas traced his fingers against Alexander's thighs before he hooked them under Alexander’s knees, forcing them up so that Alexander had his feet planted on the bed. Alexander shivered, toes curling, as Thomas bent down to kiss along his thigh, his breath warm and sticky.

Fingers caught in the bedsheets, Alexander ached, his cock almost straining against his stomach. He wanted to spread his knees wide, curls his fingers into Thomas’s hair and pull his mouth to his cock, but Thomas was being coy. He had one hand on Alexander’s hip, the other running up and down his thigh while he breathed and kissed everywhere but where Alexander really wanted him.

“Come on, asshole,” Alexander muttered, scowling, “come on.”

Thomas laughed, a hot puff of air against Alexander’s balls that made him twitch. He moved further down until Alexander assumed he was kneeling on the floor, smiling up at him over. Alexander laid back against the bed, could only see Thomas’s expression because of the weak light filtering in through the window.

Alexander jumped, toes curling, as a thumb pressed just over his rim. He moaned weakly at the pressure it put on his perineum, the muscles in his legs jumping. He bit his lip, waiting for Thomas to put his tongue there. Thomas did that sometimes; liked to make him spread his legs so Thomas could lick him open, get him wet and relaxed.  No one had ever done that to Alexander before. He never thought he’d be as into it as he was.

“You want me to, baby?” Thomas asked, voice low, thumb moving in gentle circles.

Alexander had to force his head back, his eyes on the roof, fingers curling into fists in the sheets. He had to bite back the curse that was on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t want to beg, wasn’t really into it, not the way that Thomas was, but Alexander knew that if he said no or made a smartass comment, Thomas wouldn’t do it. He’d just back off and use the lube and his fingers instead.

“Yes,” he muttered, voice strained.

Thomas chuckled, pulled his hand away so that he could lay his palm flat against Alexander’s cock gently. Alexander groaned softly, lifting his hips to try and get some friction out of the movement. Thomas let him, curling his fingers around Alexander’s cock and tightening so that Alexander could fuck into the circle he made.

Alexander almost felt relieved, his hips rocking gently. His movements against Thomas’s hand took the edge off, made the muscles in his stomach jump. Thomas watched him, pressing wet kisses into the skin of Alexander’s thigh.

He still wanted, couldn’t open his mouth and articulate how much he still wanted Thomas’s tongue on him. He’d said yes, what else was he supposed to do? Thomas’s hand was dry and tight. It was going to start hurting soon and Alexander didn’t want to come like this anyway. He wanted Thomas to fuck him.

“Alexander,” Thomas’s voice was soft and weird. Alexander scrunched up his eyes and ignored it.

“Alright,” Alexander groaned. He reached down to push away Thomas’s hand. “You’re boring me now. You going to do it, or what? Fuck me.”

Thomas regarded him for a second. Alexander met his gaze.

“Grab the pillow,” he said, letting go of Alexander entirely.

“What?”

“Grab the pillow and put it under your head. I want you to watch me eat you out.”

Alexander almost moaned. He sat and shuffled up until he could reach one, pulling it back to him. Thomas stood, watched him resituate himself at the end of the bed. On the edge, head down on the pillow, knees up. Light splashed across Thomas’s torso, his neck and one side of his arm.

He leaned down in between Alexander’s legs, crawled up his body without touching so that he could kiss Alexander hard for just a second.

When he leaned back up, he grabbed Alexander’s knees and pushed them up so that his feet were no longer flat against the bed.

“Hold them. If you let go, I’ll stop.”

Alexander scrambled to comply, his breath laboured as he tucked his hands under his knees and rested there. Thomas trailed a hand from his neck to where his cock rested against his stomach, dragging his fingernails down, pinching a nipple and making Alexander grunt. Alexander watched him kneel back down on the ground. Fingers on his cheeks, spreading him open, toes curling when he felt warm air blow against his rim.

Thomas started with the flat of his tongue, pressed it gently against Alexander’s perineum, barely any pressure. Alexander sighed, head turned to the side so he could look down and watch Thomas’s head move between his legs. Thomas licked there gently, tongue wet and pressing. He moved down to swirl his tongue against the rim, more pressure as he went. Alexander went loose at the feeling. Thomas kept licking just like that, his whole head moving up and down to trace from his rim to just under his balls. He pressed harder, tongue wet and insistent, moving in slow circles before he focused solely on prodding his tongue against the tight muscle. Alexander keened, holding tight onto his knees as Thomas’s tongue pressed harder and harder, tongue catching on his hole.

Thomas leaned forward to seal his mouth around the rim, his lips wet. Alexander shuddered, whined a little in the back of his throat. He had to dig his fingernails harder into his legs to stop himself from letting go and fisting Thomas’s hair. He drew his head back against the pillow, squeezed his eyes shut against the feeling of being fucked open on Thomas’s tongue.

Alexander wanted to see what it looked like. Wished it was bright enough so he could see the way that Thomas’s head moved, the way he bobbed his head up and down. He ached to bear down further. When Thomas flattened his tongue, and pushed in as hard as he could, Alexander moaned brokenly, caught by the pressure of it. He did that several times, tongue hard and unrelenting, opening him up, before pulling back to lick softly. Alexander could hear himself moaning, knew he sounded ridiculous but he didn’t have the consciousness to feel embarrassed about it or reign it in. It was almost a reprieve when Thomas started letting up.

Thomas licked at him a few more times before he pulled back and wiped a hand across his chin. Alexander’s chest was heaving, teeth digging into his bottom lip so that he wouldn’t protest, wouldn’t ask for more. The lack of pressure made him feel empty, wanting. Thomas stood, rubbing Alexander’s thighs. He walked around the bed to rifle through the bedside drawer.

Alexander kept his gaze on the ceiling until something soft touched his leg. He watched as Thomas threw the lube, condoms and a towel on the bed by Alexander’s feet before peeling his boxers off and stepping out of them. Alexander made a sound in the back of his throat, watched Thomas curl his fingers around his hard cock and stroke a few times.

“Come ‘ere, darlin’” Thomas drawled, eyes soft, hooded.

Alexander flushed, pushed himself up from the bed. Thomas’s hand found his hair as he moved to sit on the edge. He leaned forward, prompted by the pressure against the back of his head, and opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue to lick the head of Thomas’s cock. He took it into his mouth and sucked, brought his hand up to wrap around the base and squeeze. Thomas sighed, carded through Alexander’s hair to bring it up into a ponytail for him to hold on to. Alexander opened his mouth wider, swirled his tongue around the slit, tasted the saltiness of pre-come. He moved back so that he could rest the head against his tongue and move Thomas’s cock over it, up and down just over the top.

Alexander’s other hand rested on Thomas’s hip, could feel the way Thomas shuddered when Alexander took his cock back into his mouth and bobbed his head shallowly, lips pressed as tight as he could manage. The sounds they were both making was loud in the otherwise silent room; Thomas groaning softly when Alexander sucked on the head, Alexander breathing hard through his nose, the wet noise his lips made because he was drooling a little.

He tried to make it into a rhythm, his motor skills lagging because of how intoxicated he was, how much he was still missing the wet pressure between his legs. He bobbed his head a few times, didn’t try to take too much because he knew he’d only end up gagging. Both his head and his hand moving to jack him off. Paused to suck on the head again, cringing a little at the salty taste that stuck to his tongue. Thomas kept petting at his head, one hand curled into his hair, the other stroking up and down against the back of his neck, not pushing, just guiding.

Alexander’s neck started to ache at some point, his jaw clicking slightly. He kept moving his head, pausing every so often to swallow when he was drooling a little too much. He stilled his hand, the circle of his fingers tight, and bobbed his head as fast as he could. The noises Thomas made kept getting louder, breathing heavy until the fast pace that Alexander set had Thomas groaning in litany. Thomas let him hollow his cheeks and go at it for a few more seconds before he put a hand against Alexander’s cheek and tugged at his hair. Alexander got the hint, pulled his head up and wiped his mouth, flicking his eyes open a little. Thomas’s cock looked obscene in the faint light; hard and curved and glistening with his saliva.

“Up,” Thomas muttered, patting at Alexander’s shoulder. He sounded breathless.

Alexander shuffled up the bed until he could lay back against the pillows. Thomas crawled after him, reaching up to grab one. Alexander lifted his hips instinctively and Thomas tucked it underneath his hips with the towel. He kneeled between Alexander’s legs and grabbed the lube out of the sheets, uncapping it and coating it over his fingers. Alexander jumped when they touched his rim, cold and slippery.

This part was easily his favourite. Thomas was always so good at using his fingers. As much as Alexander tried to reign it in, Thomas knew how receptive he was, how to draw it out, how to make Alexander come just with this. Sometimes Thomas would do _only_ that, have Alexander lie on his stomach so Thomas could use his fingers until Alexander came dry and shaking.

Alexander’s toes curled at the initial intrusion, brought his legs up further. Thomas pushed in with both fingers and bent them upwards shallowly. He began by curling them backwards and forwards a little, almost pulling all the way out before stroking back in. He stayed with that rhythm for a while, slow-paced, shallow. Alexander brought a hand up to rub at his face and groan. He kicked his leg out, catching Thomas on the hip.

“Hey now, baby, if you’re going to hurt me I might just have to stop,” Thomas murmured, catching Alexander by the ankle and pushing it up so that it rested against his waist. Alexander could hear the grin in his voice.

“Well stop fucking around,” Alexander huffed, scowling down at him. He tried to bear his hips down further onto Thomas’s fingers to get him deeper, but Thomas went with the movement.

“I’m trying to be nice,” Thomas teased.

“I don’t want you to be nice, I want you to make me come,” Alexander sat up on his elbows and glared down at him.

Thomas didn’t respond, only continued to grin as he shuffled closer, bringing the leg that he was still holding to rest it over his shoulder. It was a weird angle; Alexander felt like he needed to twist a little onto his side. He was still on his elbows, watching Thomas watch his fingers disappear in and out of his hole.

Alexander let himself fall back onto the pillow when he felt the first feather-light touch to his prostate. Thomas pushed further in, curled his fingers a little harder until he hit it straight on. Alexander moaned, body shuddering, fisted the sheets. He opened his eyes when he felt the mattress shift, watched Thomas push his leg down so that he could lean on his hand over Alexander’s shoulder and lean down to kiss him. Alexander groaned, hands coming up to bury into Thomas’s hair. Thomas kissed him hard and sweet, just open-mouthed kisses that were more breathing on Alexander’s part. Thomas’s stubble scratched at his chin.

Thomas stilled for a second, moved so that he was kneeling better between Alexanders legs before he started stroking faster. Alexander jolted, his breath punched out of him as Thomas’s fingers caught his prostate hard on the upstroke, over and over. He started panting against the onslaught, his cock twitching against his stomach as the pressure built up. It was a feeling he could only describe as satisfying. Satisfying and deep and full-bodied.

He could barely concentrate as Thomas peppered kisses against his face, his chin, down the strain of his neck until his lips pressed against Alexander’s scent glands. He pressed his tongue against them like he was trying to taste him. Alexander almost whined when he felt teeth follow.

“Yeah, baby, you like that?” Thomas whispered against his ear. Alexander whined, rested his hands against Thomas’s waist. Thomas wasn’t teasing, wasn’t letting up with his fingers, kept his pace hard and unrelenting to the point that it almost felt like too much.

“You smell so good, fuck. So sweet and desperate. I never want to stop doing this. I always want you like this, open and wet so I can fuck you whenever I want. Fuck you so much that you never stop smelling like me.”

“Fuck,” Alexander groaned, his face flushing. Thomas was whispering straight into his ear, nuzzling against his glands. Alexander moaned at how good it felt to hear him say that. He was panting hard, head thrown back, feeling like he was on the brink of overstimulation.

Thomas pressed a few more kisses to his glands, his teeth pressing softly before he pushed himself up. Alexander’s hands dropped back to the bed as he Thomas knelt back, his fingers prodding a little softer against his prostate. Alexander sighed, his stomach coiled tight. The softer pace brought it down from almost too much to something nicer.

Alexander opened his eyes when he heard the foil wrapper of the condom. He watched Thomas open it with his teeth and roll it down over his cock with just one hand. He picked up the lube and thumbed the cap open, brought it down to squeeze some onto his cock. His fingers were still moving as he used his other hand to spread it around. When he pulled his fingers out, Alexander sighed.

“Come here,” Thomas murmured, grabbing Alexander’s ankle until he could drape it back over his shoulder like he’d done before. Alexander’s chest rose and fell hard, relaxed when he felt the head of Thomas’s cock press against his rim. Alexander’s stomach jumped as Thomas pushed in slowly, muscles twitching as he was stretched open. He could’ve used another finger or two, but Alexander liked the pressure, had to force himself to relax as the head of Thomas’s cock passed the ring of muscle.

Thomas groaned quietly, staring down to where he disappeared into Alexander. He kept his one hand on Alexander’s knee, the other gripping his hip. He pushed until he was all way in. He pulled back out gently and did it again, slow at first. Alexander closed his eyes and relaxed as his body was jostled. The slide did nothing for his prostate, but it felt good against his rim the way it pulled a little. Alexander tensed his legs and breathed out a sigh.

“Okay,” he said, his voice rough, “Okay, come on.”

He heard Thomas chuckle, the grip of his leg tightened before he thrust faster, rolling his hips. He set a rhythm, moving faster and faster until he was breathing hard. Alexander panted and brought his leg up close to his chest, tried to wriggle so he’d have the right angle. Thomas didn’t relent, their skin slapping together. When he caught Alexander’s prostate, they both groaned. Alexander clenched his jaw and whined, tensing around Thomas so hard that his rhythm stuttered a little. Thomas kept up like that, was mercilessly fucking into him, didn’t pause even though Alexander knew it wouldn’t last long if he didn’t

“Fuck, fuck,” he muttered, fingers shaking as he reached down and wrapped his fingers around his cock. He started to pull off slowly, the heat simmering underneath his skin.  Thomas slowed down a few seconds to shift his position and bring Alexander knees up near his chest, held him by his thighs so that he was wide open. Alexander’s legs twitched, the bed jostling as Thomas fucked into him hard.

Alexander’s mouth fell open, his moans high and breathy. He almost howled at the pleasure.

“Oh fuck,” He keened, his fingers clenching, looking for some sort of outlet to how good it felt. His voice shook, the words tumbling out of his mouth.

“Oh fuck, yes, yes, yes, yes, don’t stop.”

Thomas sounded ragged, groaning roughly, his breath stuttering and uneven. It was becoming too much; Alexander jacked off faster, his body tight. He could feel his orgasm building, knew that Thomas was very close to coming by the way he was swearing softly and half bitten off under his breath. His fingernails were stinging Alexander’s skin. Alexander reached up with his other hand to put against Thomas’s chest, felt the warm skin and erratic heartbeat. Thomas stuttered completely, leaned back to fuck Alexander shallowly, a wretched noise caught in the back of his throat. Alexander opened his eyes and tried to catch his expression. Thomas groaned loudly as he came, his face twisting, mouth open. He panted as he let go of Alexander’s legs and held himself up by his arms on the bed, kept fucking into him hard until the overstimulation became too much. When he started to slow down Alexander groaned in frustration, fist moving fast, so close to coming he could almost taste it.

Thomas blinked his eyes open, kept his hips moving slowly. He brought himself down onto his elbows so that he could lean down and kiss Alexander. Alexander’s face screwed up at the pleasure, his hand curling into Thomas’s hair. He tried to kiss back, tried to concentrate on Thomas biting his lips softly but he couldn’t stop panting.

Alexander almost swore when Thomas arched away from him, brought a hand down between their bodies. He caught Alexander’s wrist and pulled him off, smacked his hand away so that he could take over. The slight pause made Alexander grunt, his orgasm retreating, burning, before Thomas pulled him off brutally. Alexander’s body tightened, his knees boxing in against Thomas’s hips, his whole body jerking slightly. He moaned when he came, spilling over Thomas’s fist. His whole body tingled as he went over the edge, the hard pressure peaking, dispersing into sweet relief. Thomas kept his hand moving slower and slower as Alexander relaxed and rode it out, his ears ringing.

Alexander was barely cognizant for a minute. His head felt foggy and blank. He didn’t feel Thomas stop and let him go, but he half caught the kiss that he pressed to Alexander’s temple.

Alexander made a noise of recognition, eyes closed. His body was loose and relaxed, his legs falling onto the bed. Thomas stayed above him, still panting. Reached up to pull him into a soft kiss, both breathing into each other.

At some point, Thomas moved. Alexander didn’t know how long. He was coming back to himself, felt the bed shift as Thomas got up. Without the warmth, he became aware of how cold the room suddenly was. He blinked his eyes a few times. Heard rummaging in the bathroom, assumed that Thomas was taking care of the condom. Alexander hauled himself off the bed slowly, his body aching, He cleaned himself up with the towel that had been under his hips, wiping off the lube between his legs and the mess on his stomach. He folded it as best as he could before dumping it on the ground. His body felt heavy with exhaustion, only the slightest buzz. He felt loose and floaty.

Alexander got up and squinted, searching the end of the bed until he found his briefs and slipped them on. Thomas never had any qualms about letting him stay the night, although most times Alexander didn’t. He considered putting on all his clothes, finding his phone so he could see what times it was, what time he was going to get home. He laid back against the duvet and sighed up at the ceiling.

Thomas came out of the bathroom wearing cotton pants. He collapsed onto the bed, stuffing his face into the pillow. He muttered something that Alexander couldn’t hear.

“What?” Alexander sighed, his voice scratchy and thick. He crawled up the bed to lay his head on the pillow, the space between them comfortably minimal.

Thomas turned to look at him, one side of his face still buried into the covers. “You scratched me,” he muttered again, clearing his throat.

Alexander chuckled.

Thomas smacked him lightly on the arm, both snickering when Alexander smacked him back.

The silence that followed was comfortable, although Alexander was antsy to do something. He was tired, wanted to burrow into the sheets, couldn’t fathom getting on a train home. He’d take this information to his grave, but Thomas’s bed had to be one of the most comfortable he’d ever slept in.

Thomas shuffled after a few minutes. He got up to pull the blanket back and climb in. When Alexander didn’t move, Thomas put a hand against his chest and stroked. Alexander almost melted at the touch.

“Get under,” Thomas griped, pulling at the covers. Alexander groaned and rolled to the side. He pushed off the bed so he could peel the blanket back and get in. He immediately sunk into the soft mattress, turned on his side to face Thomas.

Thomas shifted onto his back. “Do I need to set an alarm?” He sounded wide awake.

Alexander made an ‘uh uh’ noise in the back of his throat and closed his eyes. He started drifting.

“Good, because I think my phones in the hall somewhere.”

Alexander chuckled and swallowed, feeling good and for some ungodly reason, _grateful_. He shuffled closer and threw an arm around Thomas’s chest, vaguely registered Thomas squeezing his hand before he drifted down into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

 

 The other side of the bed was empty when he woke the next morning.

Sunlight was streaming through the window, higher than usual. He rolled onto his back and groaned, his shoulders and head aching. The door was ajar slightly, and he could hear cluttering in the kitchen, could smell coffee.

The mattress was like a soft and fluffy cloud that Alexander was reluctant to leave. He sat up, his foot under the covers nudging into the folded pile of his clothes that Thomas must have put there for him. His arms felt like jelly when he climbed out of bed and pulled them on. His head ached unpleasantly, but not as much as he thought it would.

He stopped into the bathroom to wash his hands and stare at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was sticking up a little without its elastic tie (of which was probably lost forever like they all were when he came over). He flashed his face with cold water, rubbed the dark circles under his eyes. Thomas’s bathroom was small, bath mat and shower curtain the same sort of turquoise that was painted across one wall in his bedroom. One toothbrush, a wide-toothed comb, shaving cream, a first aid kit under the sink next to a box full or painkillers and an extra bottle of generic shampoo. Neat, tidy and a complete contrast to Alexander’s bathroom, which was much smaller and much messier.

He wasn’t even sure that he _owned_ a first aid kit.

Alexander stuck some toothpaste in his mouth before he flattened his hair with some water, opened the cupboard and kicked the shampoo so that it fell on its side. Shut the cupboard and left the bathroom door wide open.

Thomas’s room was a little less tidy. Ruffled white sheets, bright blue wall on one side, white on all the others. A bookshelf packed with fiction novels, most with what looked like crime genres. A dresser with a black scarf coiled on it and a picture of Thomas and Martha, both smiling, Thomas looking considerably younger in a navy-blue graduation gown, wooden gavel in one hand.

Alexander left the bedroom and walked down the hall. Thomas was leaning against the small dining table, brows furrowed at the sheaves of paper he had in his hands. His hair was wet, dripping down and darkening the purple shirt he had on. He smiled softly when he caught Alexander standing by the kitchen.

“Coffee’s up there if you want some,” he said, gesturing with the stack of paper.

Alexander yawned and reached for one of the mugs on the rack. “I always want some,” he muttered offhandedly, his head fuzzy.

Thomas laughed loudly. Alexander turned and glared before he registered what he’d just said.

“Not what I meant.”

Thomas grinned.

“Shut the fuck up,” Alexander muttered, poured half a mug from the press. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, listened to Thomas shuffling behind him.

An arm wrapped around his middle, a warm, solid body pressing him into the counter. Alexander jumped, his coffee jostling.

“If you want to go again you can just ask me,” Thomas breathed softly into his ear, voice light and teasing.

Alexander elbowed him in the side.

“Piss off.”

Thomas laughed and let him go. Alexander scowled into his coffee. He turned to watch Thomas pick up his own mug and the papers.

“Are you working? It’s Sunday morning.”

Thomas glanced up and stared, shrugged. “I have court next Wednesday,” he muttered. He came over to the kitchen island and nudged Alexander’s phone towards him. “You might want to text Peggy. She’s called twice.”

Alexander picked it up.

Three missed calls and five new messages.

Fuck.

_2:57am  
hey alex sorry it’s late, I know you’re probably asleep but I’m coming over okay?_

_3:22am  
Um youre not here? Where are you?_

_3:35am  
I’m stealing your bed for the night. Hope youre okay. Don’t get too drunk._

_8:03am  
alex you’re starting to worry me. Call me plz!_

_9:28am  
Alexander Hamilton. Where. Are. You. Pick up the goddamn phone._

Alexander groaned.

“Alright?” Thomas asked.

Alexander’s coat and shoes were by the sofa. He left his mug on the counter and put them on quickly, thumb moving fast over the screen in a reply.

“Let’s hope so,” he muttered, stuffing his feet into his shoes.

**9:57am  
Relax Peggy I’m fine. I’ll be home soon**

Thomas made a noise in his throat once Alexander was dressed. He checked his pockets for his keys and wallet before sparing Thomas a glance as he made his way to the door.

“Anything I should be worried about?” Thomas called.

“Nope,” Alexander called back and shut the door quietly behind him.

 

 

Peggy was still cuddled under his blankets when Alexander dropped his coat on the end of the bed. He gave her a quick smile before dashing into the bathroom and slamming the door.

He was shaking, the cold of the bathroom pressing against his sweaty skin as he hauled the toilet seat up and vomited. It burnt his throat, tasted bitter on his tongue. His stomach was clenching, nauseous, his head a little woozy. He fell to his knees against the tile, leaning his head on his arm against the bowl and trying to breathe.

There was a soft knock at the door.

“Alex?” Peggy’s soft voice called. “Are you okay?”

Alexander tried to breathe, held his stomach in the hope that it would stop.

“I just…” he started, groaned when his stomach lurched. He leaned over the bowl and vomited again. His eyes blurry with tears.

“I’m coming in, okay? I’ve got some water.”

Alexander heard the door creak open but he couldn’t lift his head to look at her. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed through his nose.

“Oh, Christ,” She muttered, set a glass of water down by the sink. Alexander heard her retreat into the other room. When she came back, she sat next to him and rubbed his shoulder.

“Too much to drink?”

Alexander could barely string a sentence together.

“Mm,” he hummed, spat the bitter taste from his mouth and lifted his head to tear off a piece of toilet paper and wipe his mouth. He rested his head back on his arm and closed his eyes.

“Can I get you anything?” Peggy asked after a minute, listening to him trying to breathe properly.

“Can you just, ah. Can you get my clothes? They’re under the pillow. ‘m going to get in the shower.”

Peggy left the room without comment.

Alexander took a few deep breaths, rubbed at his stomach a little more before he stood on shaky legs and sipped at the glass of water. He shrugged out of his sweater and shirt and reached to turn on the shower.

Peggy came back in with his clothes and draped them over the towel rack.

“Thanks, Peggy,” he murmured, his voice croaky.

“Take a shower, I’ll be out here, babe.”

She closed the door behind her. Alexander stripped out of the rest of his clothes before he adjusted the water temperature and slipped under the stream. The hot water instantly soaked his hair. He laid his head against the cold tile and sighed.

When he finished washing, some fifteen minutes later, Peggy was lying against the pillows with one of the books from his shelf open in her lap. He scrubbed at his wet hair with the towel and returned her smile.

Now that he got a good look at her, he realised just how ragged she looked. Her hair was knotty and sleep tossed and she was wearing nothing but her underwear and one of his shirts.

“Rough night?” He asked, draping the towel over the back of a chair. She scooted aside so he could lie down against the pillow next to her.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? Where were you?” She laughed and patted his cheek.

“Hm,” he relaxed into the covers when she started scratching lightly at his scalp. “I, um, was a bit out of it. Thomas didn’t trust me to get home by myself. Crashed at his.”

Which wasn’t technically a lie, right? He wasn’t lying to her.

 “That was nice of him,” she sighed. Alexander moved back so she could shuffle down the pillows and lay next to him. He pulled her closer and wrapped an arm around her waist.

Peggy didn’t say anything else, so Alexander closed his eyes and drifted. He felt wretched and tired. Bone tired, liked he hadn’t stopped since leaving work on Friday. He just wanted to sink into the mattress and never get back up. Maybe he needed to listen to Angelica’s sage advice and take it easy over the next couple of weeks.

“Were you okay last night?” Alexander murmured drowsily, thinking of three am texts and that she only ever used her spare key when she couldn't go anywhere else.

Peggy was quiet for a while. Alexander was almost asleep when she spoke up.

“Hey, stupid question but do you ever want to get married?”

Alexander almost laughed. Peggy pulled back to look at him, her face quizzical.

Alexander had to think about it for a minute. That was a hard question for him to answer. He’d never had to think about it before. The few people he’d dated in college were never people that he imagined that he’d fall in love with. Once he’d left and found a job, he’d gotten so sucked into it that there’d never been time to date. He had to look after other people’s kids and find housing for families and worry about other people's lives. He had things to do and important commitments and he could barely manage his social life as it was. Falling in love with someone and getting married on top of that sounded like more than he cared to handle

But did he _want_ to?

Alexander thought of John. John, who he’d known since college and never struck him as the kind of guy to even _want_ a relationship. John, who had Lafayette to make stupid comments about his nice art skills and teach him French and cuddle with him in bed and make him laugh.

Angelica, who was married and smiled when her husband texted her, when she spoke about their date night dinners, about cuddling on the couch watching some stupid television show and laughing together, about just sleeping next to each other.

Being _affectionate_ with each other.

That sounded like heaven to Alexander. A dream.

 “It sounds nice, I don’t know,” Alexander mumbled noncommittally, head somewhere else, "but it’ll never happen.”

Peggy frowned at him.

 “Why?”

Alexander sighed.

“Well, I’m twenty-five for one thing, and I’m not about to fall in love with anyone anytime soon.”

Peggy sat up and leaned her head on her elbow. “Okay, but hypothetically,” she started, ignoring Alexander’s quiet groan.

Alexander rubbed at his forehead, feeling worn out.

“Okay, ignoring the fact that this has everything to do with you and your relationship with Andrew,” he paused to survey Peggy’s reaction. She only raised her eyebrows and waited for him to continue.

Alexander thought for a second. Would he get married even if he was in love/had the time/had the mental capacity to deal with someone else’s shit?

“If there was someone that was very important to me, then I think that would be enough.”

“Alexander,” Peggy groaned, dropping her head into the pillow.

Alexander had to sigh. This wasn’t really a conversation he wanted to be having.

“Peggy, I can’t answer that question. I’ve never been in love before. I’m biased. It seems like a waste of time.”

Peggy groaned louder into the pillow. Alexander almost snapped at her, feeling annoyed. He was grumpy and tired and didn’t want to talk about how lonely he was.

“He said he didn’t want to?”

Peggy looked at him.

“He said he did, just not now.”

Alexander almost scoffed. Peggy and her boyfriend had this conversation almost every year and it was always the same answer.

“I want to do it now. I don’t even care about the wedding. I just want him to say yes, so we can move on. I feel like we’re at a standstill and we haven’t moved for ages.”

Peggy grumbled into the pillow a little. Alexander was silent, staring at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a while. She moved aside, pushed Alexander to do the same so that they could both crawl under the covers. “I know I’m boring you. You’re the only one that doesn’t judge me about this sort of stuff. Angelica thinks I’m too young to have kids.”

Alexander frowned at her.

“You’re not. I’m just tired, I don’t know. I never knew you wanted kids.”

Peggy smiled.

“Loads,” she laughed. “Don’t tell Andrew this but I want at least four. When I’m way old I want to have millions of grandkids and have big family gatherings and I want it all to be super chaotic.”

Alexander couldn’t help it; he felt her excitement just a little, and proud of her. For good measure, he pulled a face and muttered, “ew, Peggy.”

She pinched his arm.

They both fell silent. Peggy adjusted so that she was lying on her back, their shoulders touching. Alexander had the urge to tell her that he loved her. She knew, but he was proud of her more than she understood. She was strong and resilient and had this huge sense of kindness that Alexander envied just a little bit. She was always moving, always working hard, always belonging and fitting into things.

Alexander envied her just a little more than he was willing to admit.

Peggy had said the same thing about him when he’d told her, but what did Alexander have?

Anxiety and the ability to forget about everything but work.

And a gym membership.

That was the only thing he had going for him.

“I hate you,” he muttered into the air instead of saying _I hate myself_ because he wasn’t sure if that was true, or if he just had an uncanny ability to see the negative before he saw anything else. He’d never really had time for self-loathing.

Peggy huffed in amusement.

“I love you too.”

Alexander smiled, feeling ridiculously grateful that that was true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! And a billion thank yous for the comments and kudos. I'm so terribly shy when it comes to replying to individual comments so thank you!!
> 
> Asa side note, and not that anyone cares, but Study of Red Pope didn't get sold :( my gf was furious. I still want it.
> 
> P.S GET THOSE LAST JEDI MIDNIGHT SCREENING TIX, KIDS


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super big thank you to all of those wonderful people that left me such beautiful comments!! I was so blown away and grateful! Absolutely not what I was expecting and I can't thank you enough!!

Alexander was lagging by lunch time on Wednesday.

The weather was shitty and cold and he’d forgotten his lunch on the kitchen counter that morning when he’d woken up late and had to rush out of the door still doing his tie. He’d been in a daze, feeling woozy and fatigued all morning. Had to rewrite his notes three times because his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

There was an email, a cancelation of an appointment scheduled for Friday afternoon because someone important had been hospitalized. Alexander squinted at it, honestly trying to string the sentences together, but his eyes were drooping. He hadn’t slept well, kept tossing and turning and waking up in forty-minute intervals until he’d accidently turned off his alarm and fell back asleep. He had a list next to him; all the things he needed to do today. Make phone calls, file some paperwork for a few of the children that he saw to, reschedule the damn appointment he could barely understand. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut, and contemplated getting another coffee. Didn’t really feel like moving but felt like he needed the distraction.

His stomach was grumbling when his phone lit up silently by the keyboard. One new message from an unsaved number. Alexander eyed it warily, picked it up reluctantly, swiped to open it, sighing.

There was a picture attached. Large desk, a sleek Apple keyboard off to the side, a coffee mug and half a pen that was cut out of frame. In the centre was a stack of stapled booklets, maybe five? They looked big. And thick. The text underneath read:

_13:12  
I’m happy to swap? I’m sure the brats can’t be too difficult compared to this._

 Alexander chuckled and squinted, trying to read some of the front pages. Of course, Thomas Jefferson texted in perfect syntax.

Asshole.

**13:13  
Youre not getting your hands on my kids.**

Alexander sighed and set his phone down for a second. He was hungry and dehydrated, needed a break. Didn’t see the point in sitting around thinking about how hungry he was when he wasn’t getting any work done.  He picked up his mug and took a sip of cold tea, scrunching his face up in distaste.

 This was the fourth day in a row that he’d been humouring Thomas and responded to his texts.

Not that they were particularly interesting or even that their conversations lasted all that long. Most of it was about work, about James’s new girlfriend, about regaling stories of Martha wooing Thomas by being a nerd. On Monday night, when Alexander had been exhausted and hungry but too lazy to cook, he’d baited with Thomas about taking on guilty cases until the time had turned one-thirty in the morning and the conversation had only ended because Alexander had fallen asleep.

Thomas hadn’t brought it up yet, even though Alexander was expecting his lack of response to be taken as a surrender.

Last night he’d made this weird comment that Alexander had almost passed off as a joke until he’d settled into bed. Another stupid comment about his scent that Alexander didn’t understand. Thomas had been doing that a few times recently. Alexander was on scent blockers that tied in with his suppressants, and he took those religiously. Hadn’t missed a dose since his last heat.

Anyway.

 So, it was a thing.

Texting Thomas.

A _fun_ thing. That Alexander liked.

His stomach grumbled, ached, because he hadn’t eaten anything all day, was in desperate need of a break He sighed and opened his desk draw, picking up his wallet and keys. Coat on, scarfed looped around his neck, door closed and he was into the elevator, taking the four floors down to street level. His phone buzzed in his pocket as he stepped out onto the footpath.

_13:21  
Your kids? Did you adopt them all, you felt that bad for them?_

Alexander chuckled and thumbed out a reply, half concentrating on dodging the oncoming traffic of people.

**13:21  
Felt that bad for them? Are you kidding? Youre defending a woman that killed two men because you felt bad for her. Its in the newspapers**

**13:22  
I cant help it, id adopted all of them if I could**

The weather was getting worst if that was even possible. Not so much the temperature as it was the cold wind whipping everything around. His weather app told him that it was only ten degrees, but it felt closer to three. People passed with their faces shielded, heads down against the biting breeze.

His phone buzzed twice more before he stepped into Starbucks, but his hands were already icy from the cold, didn’t care to take them out just to play around on his phone. He picked a random box of the refrigerator shelf, a salad with bacon and avocado. Pulled out his phone while he fidgeted in the queue.

_13:25  
Not guilty. Self-defence. I can’t talk about it._

_13:25  
I know you would. I like that about you. Good luck fitting all your kids into your one room apartment._

Alexander buried his nose into his scarf, flushing with embarrassment and something else. It was obviously a jab. Thomas liked to make jokes about how seriously Alexander took his job.

He paid for his food, ordered a medium cappuccino to go, shot off a quick reply while he waited for it.

**_13:27  
Wow. You werent complaining about my one room apartment the last time you were there_ **

He almost didn’t send it, his cheeks flushed as he stared at what he’d written. It wasn’t subtle. The last time Thomas had set foot in his room was weeks ago. One of those rare moments when Alexander was the less drunk one and Thomas was ridiculously handsy the whole night. Alexander had gotten them a cab, couldn’t remember Thomas’s street name, had ended up at his instead. They hadn’t breathed a word to each other that wasn’t followed with kisses, even in the morning when they woke up on Alexander’s tiny double bed squished against each other.

His ears were hot. Alexander felt stupid. He felt like he was _flirting._

He snorted quietly and hit send. Shoved his phone in his pocket and didn’t look at it until he was back at his desk.

The paper cup was warm in his hand as he weaved through scores of people. When he made it back, he shucked his coat and scarf, took a sip of his coffee as he sat back in his chair. Checked for new emails, fiddled around with the plastic fork. His phone was silent next to him, no blinking light to tell him that he had any new messages. Alexander grinned, feeling the tiniest bit triumphed, wondering briefly if he’d embarrassed Thomas by bringing it up.

He sat forward, fork in hand, and peeled back the lid of his salad. Stabbed at the tiny pieces of bacon, fork crunching into the spinach and brought it to his mouth. He was distracted, briefly, by his phone vibrating on the desk, brought his other hand up to reach for it. He was caught off guard when his stomach lurched.

The fork dropped. Alexander sat stock still, his stomach rolling violently, clawing at his throat. He slapped a hand over his mouth and pushed back from the desk. Mouth filling with saliva, lightheaded, he could feel himself starting to sweat.

He rose from the seat slowly, back bent slightly. Dropped his hand as he rushed out of the office towards the bathrooms, swallowing excessively. He hauled open the door to the disabled toilets, hands quivering, and locked it behind him. Took a second to lean against the door, bent forward with his face in his hands. His mouth was thick with saliva and something bitter. The nausea was relentless, sitting low in his stomach and building. Alexander lifted the lid to the toilet, still bent low, and heaved the content of his stomach into the bowl.

It hurt. His stomach clenched violently, pulling everything out of him until there was nothing left and he was dry heaving. He hadn’t eaten all day, drank nothing but two cups of tea and the little coffee he’d sipped at on the way back. It all came up. It hit him so fast, he couldn’t understand why.

He stayed bent over the bowl for an undeterminable amount of time, hands clenched on the porcelain. He vomited twice more before it started to settle. The churning started to relent, nausea subsiding slowly. He was still breathing hard, mouth tasting bitter, but his hands stopped quivering. He didn’t dare move until his breathing returned to normal, until he was sure he wasn’t going to be sick again.

The cold water on his face was sweet and exactly what he needed. Alexander flushed the toilet and stumbled over to the sink to wash his mouth out. When he looked up into the mirror, he almost groaned. Face pale, eyes rimmed red, cheeks glistening from the tears, pieces of hair stuck to his face from the water and sweat.

Alexander washed his hands, pat his face dry with a paper towel and left the bathroom. He felt tired and sluggish as he walked, legs weak, scattered thoughts, exhausted. This was getting old now. All this getting sick and not understanding why.

He was thinking of the clinic. Thinking of Angelica telling him to take it easy because he hadn’t been doing so great lately. He was supposed to go to the doctors, get a check-up, maybe take some vitamins. She’d been very adamant, demanding that Alexander promise her he’d go. She’d asked him before she left for London, almost two weeks ago, and he still hadn’t. She was being nosy even though Alexander knew she was right.

It was getting worst. He went from being somewhat tired to feeling constantly overworked, to this. To collapsing into bed the moment he got home, not having the appetite to eat, feeling sick whenever he tried. He felt like he could barely function. He was never like this. In those rare times when he got sick, he was never like this. He could always power through it, flush it out of his system with water and feigning ignorance and refusing to let it get to him, but this was different.

It was in his bones. He couldn’t get away from it.

He needed to do something about it. Knew that for certain. Take some time off or let up a little, give himself more breathing room. Go to the doctors, maybe get a prescription for something that would help.

Lately, there’d been this thing, sitting just at the back of his thoughts, eating at him. An afterthought that wouldn’t leave him.

He didn’t want to go to the doctors. For the first time in a long time, Alexander felt scared, felt the cold, hard grip of fear.

* * *

 

 

When he finally made it back to his desk, Alexander collapsed into his chair, chest heaving even though the bathroom was barely twenty metres away. There was a file on his desk with a bright pink sticky note, his boss’s loopy handwriting asking him to go over it, make sure everything was correct. Alexander pushed it aside, wrinkled his nose for just a second when his arm bumped into his uneaten salad.

He picked up his phone instead, thumbed the display on to see that he had two new messages from Thomas and one from Eliza.

He opened hers first.

_13:47  
Alex how mucj will you love me if I put radishes in your salad for tomorrow???_

Alexander had to chuckle. The subtle but not so subtle ways in which Eliza asked for favours.

**14:11  
Not as much as I alrsedy love you. What do you want anyway**

He didn’t bother fixing his mistake before he sent it. Was almost tempted to mimic hers. He flicked over to the three unread messages from Thomas, feeling weary.

_13:44  
Are you even working?_

_13:57  
I was severely drunk and don’t remember a single detail about your apartment except that it was small._

_14:01  
Although, I’m up for another visit if you’re willing to try and change my mind?_

Alexander groaned. He set his phone down on the table, pushed it aside so that he didn’t have to look at it. Picked up his salad with a scowl and dumped it into the bin, his appetite long gone and probably not going to make an appearance for the rest of the early afternoon. He pulled the stabled booklet to him, leaned his head in his hand as his eyes flittered over the page.

His leg jumped. Phone still in his line of sight. Fingers itching. Gut clenching for an entirely different reason.

Was it an invitation? They never spoke about it so openly.

If Alexander wasn’t so bone-tired, he might’ve picked it back up, might’ve texted back something stupid. An affirmation maybe. Flirted with the idea just a little bit. Buy some beer on the way home, tidy everything a bit. He knew it was a weird thing to consider. Before this had started, before his heat, Alexander would’ve baulked at the idea, at Thomas propositioning him so easily. He would’ve made fun of it.

Only, Alexander hadn’t known before that point how ridiculous his sex drive could get when he was having regular, almost weekly sex. He hadn’t known how much he’d come to crave it, look forward to it. He felt like a teenager that first time after he’d had sex, where it was all he could think about, all he wanted to do.

But it was nearly two-thirty, he had shit to do and already felt like he was going to collapse from exhaustion. As much as Alexander wanted to get laid, he wanted to get his work done and go home and crawl under the blankets more.

As an afterthought, Alexander picked up his phone and slid it into his bag so he wasn’t tempted anyway.

* * *

 

  

“John’s going home for Thanksgiving.”

Eliza was sitting on the grass next to him with a coke bottle in one hand and her phone in the other. Alexander was stretched out next to her, bag under his head as a pillow, face buried in his scarf. He had ten more minutes until he had to get back to work.

Eliza was out of a job at the moment. She tended to flit about, working anywhere that would take her. Didn’t like the idea of sticking to one place for so long. Had studied creative writing and journalism. She was a good writer, resilient, big imagination. Alexander could never figure out why she never pursued it. Couldn’t fathom having another money to never really worry about working.

“Hey, quick question,” Alexander muttered into his scarf, shivering a little, “why do we have to do this outside? I’m about three seconds away from frostbite.”

Eliza was also in a coat and scarf, maroon beanie with a white pompom on the top, her pink fingernails sticking out of her little fingerless gloves. Beside her was the Tupperware container that he’d eaten his salad from. The salad that had consisted mostly of spinach and radish and a few other things. For lunch, he’d made her a vegan cheese and carrot baguette with mustard.

Eliza thumbed at her phone with a grin on her face, ignoring him. “You know he’s taking Laf with him, right? I wonder how his dad’s going to take it. John’s boyfriend,” she snorted.

Alexander vaguely wondered as well. He was wagering that it was going to be miles better than when John told his father he was a guy. John had texted him a few nights ago, made a joke about Henry Laurens son being trans _and_ queer. Couldn’t be upset about both, right?

“You’re into him,” Alexander laughed suddenly, flipping the edge of his scarf down to look at her. Eliza looked at him with a blank expression.

“John?”

Alexander chuckled, “Lafayette.”

Eliza pulled a face that made him chuckle and went back to scrolling through her phone. Alexander pulled his scarf back over his face and groaned loudly, frustrated. His fingers were icy from the cold.

It was Thursday and he was feeling loads better than he had been the entire week. Had gone straight home after work, chatted with John on the phone a little before he ate almost the entire pineapple he bought the day before. Messed around on his phone a little while he was cuddled under the blankets. Had woken up feeling like he was finally back to normal.

“You will, right?” Eliza muttered under her breathe, her brows creased.

“What?”

It took her a while, but Eliza finally dropped her phone into her lap and looked at him. “For Thanksgiving. You’re coming? You said you were.”

Alexander stared at her, confused. He always came. Every year. Catherine and Philip loved having him and he loved going. He loved being a part of the family.

“I always do,” Alexander’s voiced tilted up into a question, still confused. Eliza sighed and fidgeted with her gloves. Set her coke bottle down into the grass.

“Make the spicy rice stuff, okay? Mum loves it, even if she acts like she doesn’t.”

She picked her phone back up, having nothing else to say. Alexander frowned, could see the way she was deflecting, like there was something else she wanted to say. She was being cagey. Alexander almost called her out until she spoke again.

“Sorry,” her voice was sullen, “that sounded really weird. I know you will. I just don’t want you to get bored with it. I know, since _you know,_ mum’s been really weird and nasty to you.”

Alexander scoffed and reached out to pat her knee. “Are you kidding? Betsey, your family is never getting rid of me. I love them. If I wasn’t so gay I’d probably marry you just so I could call them my in-laws. Catherine’s fine, I’ll deal.”

Eliza laughed. She bundled herself up in her coat and laid down next to him. Forced him to stick out his arm so that she could lay on it.

“You’re assuming I’d say yes?”

Alexander grinned.

“You would. One hundred percent you would.”

She chuckled and stuck her face into his scarf. Alexander ran his hand through the hair sticking out of her beanie. Rubbed her shoulders and back, wrapped his arm around her waist. She stayed still and quiet, just breathing. She was warm and smelled nice, like soap and _girl._ Whatever that meant. She had a nice scent.

Alexander dug his hand into his pocket to fish out his phone and check the time.

“Five minutes and I got to start walking back, sweetheart.”

She grumbled into his neck. Alexander rubbed her back until she pulled back to look at him.

“Hey,” she mumbled quietly, her brows pulled down into a frown, “don’t laugh.”

Alexander chuckled. Couldn’t help himself considering how petulant she sounded.

“No promises.”

“Okay, so, I know this is going to sound stupid,” she paused long enough to sit up and cross her legs.

“I’ve been speaking to Thomas lately, about you- “

Oh.

Alexander froze, heart rate picking up.

“-and, I don’t know why, but he kind of brings you up a lot more than necessary?” She gesticulated like she was confused. Alexander tried to breathe like a normal functioning adult and avoid making it obvious that she’d caught him off guard. He started plucking at the short grass by his head.

“What?” He muttered, eyes down, a constant mantra of _please don’t ask me, please don’t make me tell you_ going through his head.

“It’s silly, please don’t laugh “- she laughed as she said this, “- but I think he’s into you a little bit.”

She paused and stared. Maybe waiting for him to laugh? He almost did. It was almost funny. And ludicrous. Thomas Jefferson being _into_ him. ridiculous.

For some reason, he didn’t think it was funny at all.

“What?” He murmured, giving her his best _are you nuts?_ expression. “Thomas isn’t into me.”

Eliza sighed loudly and shrugged.

“Yeah okay, I know it sounds stupid. You guys have become a little closer lately and. Well. I don’t know. I just kind of thought…”

She drifted off, staring at him. Thinking.

“I thought it might’ve turned in to a thing?”

Alexander did laugh at that. Eliza relaxed a little.

“You think I’m into him? Eliza…” He drifted off, gave her an exasperated look, couldn’t stop laughing.

Eliza laughed.

“Yes, fine, it’s stupid. You don’t like him, fine. But I still think he’s got a thing for you.”

She leaned in, whispered loudly, “he was asking me about your scent the other night when we were out.”

That caught him up.

_Again?_

His scent.

His scent that Thomas shouldn’t have been able to smell because he was on scent blockers. That had to be maybe the fifth time now.

He’d never brought it up before last weekend.

Alexander frowned, thought of Saturday night when Thomas wouldn’t stop nuzzling his glands, talking about how good he smelt. Alexander had brushed it off, thinking maybe Thomas was just remembering the first and only time they’d had sex while Alexander hadn’t been on the blockers.

“I don’t have one, I’m taking suppressants,” he muttered, staring at the space above her head.

Eliza shrugged.

“That’s what I said. He asked me whether I could smell you. Said that you smelt different. I told him I couldn’t. Maybe it’s an alpha thing.”

Alexander had to bite his lip to keep his mouth shut. He almost wanted to do it. To tell her that they were sleeping together. She probably wouldn’t judge him.

Much.

* * *

 

 

When it was time to head back, Eliza walked him to his office building and spent as much time as possible buried under his coat in a hug. Alexander pulled her beanie off so he could nuzzle into her hair. He was feeling good. Wasn’t ready to go back upstairs and sit in his office and work. Wasn’t ready to leave her. This had been their first lunch in a long time.

When she pulled back she was grinning wildly.

“Maybe you’re pregnant,” she laughed, holding him by the shoulders.

Alexander’s heart picked up. The little voice in the back of his head grew louder.

Fear.

 _I’m not,_ he wanted to say. _I can’t be. I took the contraception after. We only did it that one time in my heat._

“Funny, Betsey,” he murmured instead, voice low.

She gave him a cute smile.

“I don’t know, scents change when people get knocked up. Anyway,” she reeled him back in for another hug, “love you. Call me soon and we can get dinner some time.”

Alexander felt dazed, the fear gripping tight. He hugged her, murmured in agreement and kissed her cheek. Caught the elevator back up when she was gone. Found his desk. Sat stock still, feeling paralyzed. He almost cried, feeling flayed open, wrecked. It hit him so suddenly.

He couldn’t be pregnant.

But _fuck_ did the idea scare him.

* * *

 

  

Alexander almost made it to eleven pm before he caved.

In complete contrast to how he started the day, by ten, he was feeling the exhaustion creep back in. Had spent an hour and a half at the gym trying to tire himself out enough that he could fall asleep. Got back and showered, pulled up Netflix feeling like lead, dead to the world, but wide awake, no matter how many time his eyelids drooped.

He couldn’t do it.

Couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Fuck.

His scent.

Alexander bowed forward, buried his face in his hands and sighed, his body sore and weary. He knew this: there was very little reason to fear that he was pregnant.

Eliza was right. Alexander could recall every fine detail about his sex education class. He could recall learning about the changes an omega went through when they were pregnant. The scent change, the nausea, the fatigue, the inexplicable bond between an omega and an alpha that was caused by the changes in an omega’s scent. The chemicals that made up who he was constantly changing to make way for something bigger.

Alexander also knew this: he didn’t feel any particularly strong bond or pull towards Thomas that couldn’t be explained. That he deemed unusual after their time together or when they were around each other. He wasn’t in love, didn’t feel the need to stay close, to lay claim and make their relationship more than what it was. Sometimes, after the endorphins had settled down and Alexander decided to stay the night, they’d both burrow under the blankets and Thomas would wrap an arm around his waist or Alexander would crawl against his side.

But that was it.

He liked the little affection they shared for the simple fact that it felt nice to fall asleep like that. To bask in it.

So, really, if anyone asked, that was probably the one argument had going for him against the reason why he wasn’t pregnant.

Which wasn’t enough to make him feel reassured.

After that night, after Thomas had fucked the last of Alexander’s heat out of him and he’d woken feeling sore and dazed, the first thing he did after he went home and showered was visit the pharmacy. He’d been hungover and tired, but not stupid enough to forget about it.

Once, Alexander had to remind himself. Thomas had knotted him once and he’d taken an emergency contraception only a few hours after.

There was no reason he should be pregnant.

But his scent.

Thomas always bringing it up like Alexander wasn’t on scent blockers. Like he could _smell_ it.

He didn’t think he was sick with anything. He was just sick _sometimes_ and exhausted the rest of the time.

He caved, his heart racing, body worn down. Shrugged on his coat, scarf, slipped his hands into his frayed gloves. Turned off the light when he left. Locked the door.

The pharmacy was twenty-four hours. The person behind the check-out was a tall girl with red hair. Alexander wandered the aisles, spent three minutes trying to find the right one.

When he did, he cringed. There weren’t many to choose from. Pregnancy tests ranging from home brands to ones that told him how many weeks. Alexander fingered through them, shook the boxes, read the backs, thoughts scattered. He picked up a pharmacy brand one that included two sticks. Each box seemed to say the same thing in the way of accuracy.

He brought the box up to the counter. The girl smiled when he paid.

He didn’t need two. If it was negative, there was no way it was going to be wrong. His heat was two months ago.

And if it came out positive.

Well.

He prayed silently in the elevator on the way back up.

Positive pregnancy tests couldn’t be wrong, could they?

Despite the cold, the drafty corridor, when Alexander unlocked his door and slipped inside, he was sweating. He draped his coat over a chair, his scarf and gloves making it onto the bed. He took the box from his pocket and stared at it, his heart racing. Something about being in possession of a pregnancy test when he was showing symptoms of pregnancy.

He didn’t want to do this.

He really didn’t.

Alexander had felt fear in his life. The hurricane, listening to his mother die next to him in the dark, child services, being shunted from family to family those first few times. College and getting drunk the first time, kissing the first person he’d ever dated. A whole list of fears that made up his life, had shaped him.

But not like this.

Not as torrential as this.

Not as jarring.

Alexander sat down at the table and pressed the box to his forehead. Started breathing through his nose slowly, his hands shaking. His mind was alight, every place at once. He pulled his hands back, dug his thumbnail under the cardboard flapped and pulled it out.

The sticks were wrapped in separate packaging. There was a folded piece of paper at the bottom. Alexander spilt the contents onto the table and stared. He brought his hand up and fingered at the instructions.

No.

He was being stupid.

He tried to breathe slower, steadier.

He was panicking.

Alexander pulled back. Stood from the table before he could think about it and started rummaging through his coat until he found his phone. Barely had to flick through his contacts. Her name was at the top. He felt tears prickling at his eyes.

He was pregnant.

He didn’t need to take the test.

He knew.

He could feel it.

Alexander dialled the number. Sat down on the edge of his bed and bit at his fingernails while he listened to it ring. Once, four times, seven times and then nothing, followed by Angelica’s hoarse voice.

“Hello?”

Alexander almost cursed, pulled his phone back to stare at the time. It was midnight.

“Hello?”

Alexander sighed.

“I’m so sorry, Ang.”

He shuffled back so that he could lean his back against the wall. There was shuffling on the other end.

“Alex, are you okay? What’s up?”

He felt guilty, wanted to tell her to go back to sleep. This could all wait. He didn’t need to burden her with his problems. He just needed to calm down for a few minutes. Stop assuming the worst.

“I just – “ he started, swallowed. His throat felt full and scratchy. He had to swallow several more times, realised he was on the edge of crying.

“Alex?”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s late. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Perhaps she could hear the emotion in his voice. The panic.

“No, darling, you’re fine. I’m fine. Are you okay? You don’t sound okay.”

Alexander had to pause, breathe a little, didn’t want the tears to fall. Angelica was quiet while she waited.

“I think I need you.”

He felt good after saying it.

There was shuffling on the other end, Angelica murmuring softly to someone else.

“Okay, darling. Are you at home? I’m getting dressed now, I’m going to catch a cab.”

Relief hit him, hard and soothing. The tears fell down his cheeks silently. He tried to swallow, hold them back, but they cascaded down his face completely inhibited.

“I’m at home.”

If Angelica could hear the tears in his voice, she didn’t comment. There was more shuffling, more murmurs.

“Okay, great. I’m going to hang up and get dressed. Give me twenty minutes, okay?”

She hung up after his noise of affirmation, and Alexander was unsure what he was supposed to do until she got here. He got off the bed, stood in the middle of his tiny little apartment room. Stared off into space, eyes directed towards the window and the navy curtains. He approached it, pulled back the curtains to stare into his little, deserted street. Only the orange glow of the street lamps. Cars parked here and there. Most of the windows across the way were blacked out. Either people were in bed, or also had their own curtains closed tightly. He leaned his head against the cold glass and sighed, his breath fogging it just a little.

The panic receded the longer he did this. Breathe in and out. Watch the glass gets misty and then slowly clear. He lost focus staring at the glow of a street lamp, lost in his head a little. He hadn’t felt anxiety like this for a very long time. Had almost forgotten the feeling of always dreading your next step knowing it was going to affect all the steps to come.

He left the safety of the window and closed the curtain behind him. His eyes caught the packaging still sitting on the table, and he sighed wearily. Walked over to run his fingers over one of the wrapped sticks. After a beat, he picked it up and tore at it. The stick looked like they all did, long and white, blue cap, little window with nothing in it. When he pulled the cap off, it tapered into a long rectangle, an arrow pointing downwards. He remembered learning about them at school only briefly. One line for negative, two for positive.

He wasn’t panicking at all now. Cold resignation took its place.

Alexander didn’t know what he’d do if it came out positive.

He set the stick back down, sat at the table so he could open the folded piece of paper. It was instructions set in a few different languages. He read through it in French, Spanish and English, all the same, all telling him to do the same thing. Don’t pee above the blue rectangle, best do it in the morning, wait a few minutes.

Alexander sighed, set the instructions down and picked the stick back up. He left the instructions on the table as he made his way into the bathroom, his fingers shaking, heart racing. If he got it done now, he wouldn’t have to stress about it later, wouldn’t have to stress Angelica out over it. He removed the cap, set it on the top of the toilet. He made sure his thumb was covering the window, didn’t want to glimpse it at all while he did this. He pulled down his sweatpants a little. Stuck the tapered end under mid-stream, per-instructions. When he was finished he kept his thumb over the window, capped the end, opened the drawer under the sink and threw it in without looking at it. His heart was still hammering.

Fuck.

He couldn’t believe he just had to do that.

Alexander was sure tests couldn’t be invalid when they came out positive. It was to do with something in your urine that was produced when you were pregnant. Chemicals and all the bullshit that your body was changing in to. He washed his hands, considered taking the stick out with him to the sit at the table.

Decided he’d probably be sick if he looked at it again.

He went back out and picked up the rest of the kit. Threw out the box and instructions, shoved the other stick under his pillow when he laid down. He didn’t want that to be the first thing Angelica saw when she arrived.

He thumbed open his phone to waste some time, his thoughts weirdly numb. He stared at the number in his messages, opened his and Thomas’s last chat. Something about Thanksgiving, inconsequential and boring. Alexander pictured writing the words.

_Hey, sorry I’m about to ruin your life but I’m ninety percent sure that I’m pregnant and it’s definitely yours._

He almost laughed thinking about Thomas’s response. He’d take it as a joke first, comment on Alexander’s inability to be funny. Would he be mad? Upset? Would he just accept it?

Doubtful.

Would he want it?

Alexander laid back to stare at the ceiling, tears prickling his eyes. It posed the question.

Did _he_ want it?

* * *

 

 

Angelica knocking softly at his door sometime later. Alexander crawled from the bed and unlocked the door, suddenly nervous.

She didn’t look tired, Alexander thought. She looked awake and alert, like she hadn’t been sleeping half an hour ago. She even gave him a soft smile when he opened the door.

“Hi.”

Alexander fiddled with the door. Opened it wide enough to let her in.

“Hi,” he muttered.

She was wearing jeans and s fuzzy sweater. Draped her coat and bag over one of the chairs and turned back to him still smiling.

“You okay?” She asked, pulling out one of the chairs and taking a seat.

Alexander still felt bad for bothering her.

But he couldn’t do this without at least telling someone.

He thought about her question for a few seconds; sat down opposite her and reached for her hands. He returned her smile.

“Not really. I’m freaking out a little bit.”

“Are you hurt?” She sat up straight, surveyed him a little. Alexander shook his head, eyes downcast to the polished wood.

“No, I’m fine. I just… There’s something I have to tell you first. So that this makes sense.”

Angelica already looked confused but she didn’t respond. Alexander held her hand and tried to form the words. He didn’t really know how to same them. Knew that this was only the easy part.

“So, I,” he stumbled, paused to think for a second. “I didn’t tell you this because I kind of just assumed that you knew.”

He paused again to meet her eyes. Her face was open and kind.

“Seriously, please don’t be mad? I knew there was a chance that you didn’t know, but I just didn’t want to talk about it. It’s not really that much of a big deal.”

Alexander sighed, still meeting her eyes. Angelica didn’t move.

“I’ve been… Since my last heat, Thomas and I have been having sex.”

It spilt out of his mouth in a rush. He was barely nervous considering what he was about to say next, but it was weird to say it out loud. To acknowledge it so directly.

Angelica furrowed her brows in confusion and stared at him. she paused for a second. It made Alexander nervous when she pulled her hands back to lean against the chair and fold her arms. Alexander stayed quiet, trying to gauge her reaction.

“So, is that all?” She asked, sat back forward so that she could lean on the table and rub at her face. “Because, not to be rude Alex, but this is probably something that could’ve waited until morning. I’m glad you told me. I didn’t know. But…”

She petered off, looking at him over the top of her hand over her face. Alexander swallowed. His breathing picked up. He just wanted to say it. Wanted the words to just leave his mouth so that he could breathe a little more.

“No, I’m… It’s because,” he paused, heart hammering, voice shaking, “I think I’m pregnant.”

Alexander bowed forward, hands fidgeting on the table. Relief hit him like a tidal wave when he said it. Like his first breath of fresh air in a long time. It didn’t feel so trapped underneath his ribs.

To her credit, Angelica remained perfectly stoic and composed in the minute or so of silence that followed. She stared at his face, hands still laying over one half of her face.

She reached forward and touched Alexander’s cheek, her fingers coming away wet. It tingled where she touched him. Alexander hadn’t noticed the tears. He pulled back to touch his own cheek, feeling how wet there were.

“Sorry,” he muttered, wiping at his face with his sweater sleeves. Angelica regarded him for a second.

“How certain are you?”

Alexander’s stomach rolled with nerves.

“Certain. I took an emergency contraception afterwards, but you know how I’ve been feeling lately. I’ve never been sick like this before. And my scent…

He rubbed his eyes.

“Thomas keeps bringing it up. He shouldn’t be able to smell it, I’m on scent blockers.”

“Eliza mentioned that,” she mumbled. She looked pensive, maybe slightly worried. It didn’t make him feel good at all.

“What would you like to do? Do you want to tell Thomas? You have to be sure.”

Tell Thomas. No.

Hell no.

Not now. He didn’t want to breathe a word of this to anyone else for as long as he could get away with.

“I took a test,” he said in a tiny voice. Angelica’s brows raised in surprise.

“When? So, you know?” She asked.

“Just before you came. I haven’t looked at it.”

He felt a little stupid saying it. As if he needed to be sure, but he needed her here, her support.

Angelica sat forward and regarded him for a second. Alexander started bouncing his leg, felt antsy and tired. It was a surprise when Angelica stood from the chair.

“I’m going to make some tea, would you like some?”

Alexander blanked for a second. Angelica turned her back to him and pulled open one of the cupboards to bring out a mug. She set it down on the counter and picked up another, turning around to wave it in his directions. Alexander shrugged.

She was quiet while she went about it. Alexander sat there and tried to gauge her reaction. Her face was blank, brow contorted slightly while she waited for the kettle to boil. He prayed silently that she wasn’t mad, wasn’t judging him for this. He watched her put the teabags in the mugs. Teaspoon of sugar in one, none in the other. They were both silent.

The kettle clicked.

Alexander sighed.

Angelica tipped the hot water into both mugs, face hidden behind the curtain of her hair. Alexander almost jumped when she spoke.

“You have to look at it, sweetheart. It sounds like you are. Especially with the scent thing. But you have to know.”

She picked up both the mugs and set them on the table, but didn’t take a seat. Alexander looked at her. She smiled softly.

“Where is it? Did you throw it out?”

Alexander shook his head, “No, it’s in the bathroom. The drawer.”

Angelica nodded. Sat down opposite him and inclined her head.

“Go get it, Alexander. Go look at it.”

There was no room for arguing. She was obviously being sincere, but her tone of voice left no room for argument.

 Alexander swallowed thickly, feeling resigned and nervous. He stood from the table, passed his little kitchenette into the bathroom. Without looking, he opened the drawer under the sink and stuck his hand in, fingers catching around the tube of toothpaste before he found it.

Alexander pulled it and turned it around in his hand. Heart in his throat, praying, praying that it wasn’t positive. Stared at it without moving. Held his breath until his chest started to hurt.

Two blue lines stared back.

Two.

Two for positive.

He breathed out, almost like a sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was lovingly titled in my onedrive as 'sht gets real'. Anyway, I fuckin hated writing this. 
> 
> I know this is being posted later than then it normally is. PLEASE READ THIS because it's about next week. I'll be flying back to Sydney next Wednesday for something personal, so I'm not making any promises about whether there will be an update next week. I'm really sorry! It's very sudden, and I'm a couple of chapters ahead of this, but I'm saving those up for the christmas holidays. :(
> 
> Again, thank you for all your lovely comments and kudos, they really mean a lot to me!!


	4. Chapter 4

One week.

Between work, trying not to drop off the face of the earth, and Angelica’s worried phone calls, Alexander gave himself one week to be miserable and ignorant.

Not, of course, that it was planned. Before the weekend hit, Alexander spent those two days powering through work, mind elsewhere. Not thinking about the inevitable, or the pregnancy test still sitting in his bathroom, or how hard it was to cook some semblance of dinner and not throw it up most times. Work was busy, and he spent most of it feeling tired and dazed, only to come home, shower and fall into his bed. Ignore, ignore, ignore.

But there was no alarm to wake him on Saturday. The second before he’d even opened his eyes, he knew it was late. He’d blinked up at the ceiling through the haze of light feeling relaxed, well-rested. Fine, really, until he’d pulled out the bathroom drawer to brush his teeth and there it was. The pregnancy test.

Because he was pregnant.

Sometime after that, sometime around one, he’d fallen into a slump. He’d run the shower, stood under it long enough that it started to turn cold, and just strategized. He was good at bouncing back, at solving things, working his way around obstacles and hardships. He could manage. He could figure something out.

But this was different.

It wasn’t like anything he thought he’d ever face.

How did he fix this?

How did he tell Thomas?

How was he supposed to be a parent?

Instead of trying to figure out what he was going to do, Alexander felt like he’d barely survived the week. Monday came with the cold realisation that this wasn’t something he could wait out or power through. Instead of coming up with a plan, he’d panicked, became a permanent fixture in the covers of his bed, mind miserably blank. Questions that had no answers but haunted him anyway.

Paired with the anxious, gut-wrenching feeling he always found himself with, the nausea felt like it got worse. Less vomiting, more cold sweats and feeling ill. His muscles started to ache, his sleep cycle shifted mostly in the sense that he felt shitty unless he’d slept more than eight hours. He barely blinked when he threw his suppressants in the bin with finality, hoping beyond hope that the action itself would help him come to terms with what he was facing. He texted back and forth with Angelica, trying to find solace in the one person who knew. To just acknowledge the fact that it existed and that he didn’t know how to deal with it.

When he finally got in on Wednesday night, the time just pushing six, Alexander had a semi-plan. He was fumbling in the dark, but he needed to start somewhere. He felt sick and sore and ready to stop wallowing.

Which is how he wound up here, standing in front of his bathroom mirror in nothing but jeans.

His shirt was still lying on the bed where he’d thrown it, alongside his sweater and coat. He had his socks on, his shoes, his hair up. But somewhere in between washing his hands and brushing his hair, it had really sunk in.

How long ago was his heat? Three months? Alexander wondered when things would start to change. He touched a hand to his stomach, still flat, still normal, looking no different than it was. How long would it take before it started to get bigger? Before the presence of a baby was more evident?

A baby.

He was having a baby.

The truth of it stung less the more he thought about it. How far along was he at this point? Eight weeks? Nine weeks? He had a nine-week-old baby inside of him, sitting right under his hand, growing.

And he needed to do something about it. Whatever that was, whatever it looked like. He didn’t have any of it figured out just yet, but he was at least going to start.

 

* * *

 

 Martha already had her coffee when Alexander arrived.

She sat slouched on a stool, her long legs crossed, fuzzy hood over her head, both thumbs dancing over the screen of her phone. When Alexander took the other stool, chai latte in one hand, Martha looked up and smiled brightly at him.

“Hi, stranger,” she said, setting her phone down. Alexander smiled back.

“Hi,” he muttered, feeling a little awkward. “Thanks for coming. I hope I didn’t bother you or anything. Have you eaten?”

Martha shrugged. “No bother, I had an early dinner. Might grab something on the way back. You can grab something if you like. I’m not weird about people eating in front of me.”

Alexander shook his head, feeling like he couldn’t keep anything down even if he really wanted to. 

Now that he was here, he felt a little weird. He didn't do this with Martha. Didn't get coffee or just casually chat unless they were at a pub and mostly drunk. Alexander felt like he barely knew anything about her. Like he was just about to confess some huge secret to a complete stranger.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, both hands wrapped around his hot paper cup. He was feeling weird and floaty, like he wasn’t really present. Martha leaned forward, her lips – still pink – resting against the rim of her cup.

“So, I’m guessing,” she said slowly, making Alexander flush awkwardly, “that this favour that you spoke about has something to do with Thomas?”

Because there’d be literally no other reason for them to meet like this.

Alexander nodded.

“Yeah. I’m…” What? He was what? What was he going to say to her? Alexander had no idea how to start this off. Whether he should just say it outright, just to get the ball rolling. If not, what else was there to say to each other.

“I need to talk to him. To tell him something,” he scratched at the table, stumbling over his words. He couldn’t look at her.

Martha hummed and sipped at her drink.

“Do you think he already knows?” she asked softly. Alexander looked up.

No. Surely not. Maybe the scent thing tripped him up a little, but Alexander had no doubt in his mind that Thomas was ignorant to his predicament.

“No,” Alexander said, voice tilting into a questioning tone. He was confused now. “He couldn’t. At all.”

Martha bobbed her head, laughing a little.

“Okay, so, different thing. Am I allowed to know this thing that you need to tell him?”

Alexander glanced down, scratching at the table again. He sipped at his drink, willing the words out of his mouth. He feared how she’d react. Whether she’d be too angry at him to help.

He looked up at her; back straight, face expectant, waiting. He sighed.

“I’m pregnant.”

Alexander brought his hand up, bit at his fingernails as he watched Martha frown, her brows pulled tight together. She was quiet for a few seconds. His nerves were oddly still.

“Oh,” she breathed, expression unmoving, “that’s not what I was expecting.”

Alexander had to chuckle. Almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Neither was I.”

She was unmoving for a while. Alexander watched her eyes gloss over a little, like she was thinking hard. He wanted to barricade himself somehow, to defend himself, make it clear that he’d been careful, that he’d done what he could at the time. He didn’t want her to be angry.

Instead of saying that, he said:

“Not great, right?”

Like an idiot.

Alexander wanted her to chuckle. To at least make a joke, crack the ice a little. Not look at him like he was a little insane. Instead, Martha looked at him like he was a little insane.

“No,” she said, slowly, absentminded, “not really. Are you sure?”

Alexander wished he wasn’t. Wished it wasn’t true.

“Yeah,” he murmured, sipping at his drink. Martha was quiet for some time, distant, not really looking at him. Alexander fumbled for words. 

“I’m… I need to tell him. Or something. I’m not really sure yet.”

Martha bobbed her head, gazing somewhere over his shoulder. He let her sit in silence. Fidgeted with his drink. Tried to predict what she might say.

Something honest, because if there was anything that Alexander knew about Martha, was that she was an honest and upfront woman. 

“You don’t have a plan?” She asked slowly, brows furrowed.

Alexander shrugged. What was there to plan? He was having a baby. Besides a visit to a doctor, there wasn’t really anything else he could do about it right now.

“This is all I’ve got going for me at the moment. Is there something else I need to do?”

Martha was quiet. Alexander chewed his lip; all these quiet glances she kept shooting anywhere but at him was making him nervous.

“What I mean – “ she started, sitting straight. Alexander had a feeling he knew what she meant.

“I mean, you’re going to keep it?”

Alexander sighed into his cup, the answer already there.

“There’s another option?”

She shot him an unamused look. Alexander almost shot one back. Felt close to annoyed that she was asking him something like that like it was nothing. Like not keeping his own baby was a decision he could make in a split-second.

“You could get an abortion.”

Even though he knew it was coming, it was still a shock to hear her say it. Her face remained the same; still, serious, watching. Alexander sat back in his chair and just looked at her. She was put out, not happy, and it was making him uncomfortable.

Yes, that was possible, and something he’d spent a considerable amount of time thinking about. He could make an appointment at the clinic, talk to a doctor, get it done on his lunch break, maybe. Tomorrow, even. Wash his hands of it all so that he could learn from it and everything could go back to normal. He’d be more careful, maybe do with regular contraception if this was going to continue being a thing.

He had options other than just keeping it. He’d spent hours googling the process of putting it up for adoption the moment it was born. Someone else would want it. Someone couple who couldn’t conceive but had the means to look after a baby, to bring it up, to do a better job than he could.

He’d been thinking of talking to Angelica. Knew it was a sore topic for her, but how long had she been trying for a baby? Two years? Not many people knew that. He wanted to bring it up, maybe so she could just turn him down and they could get that out of the way. But he was afraid of offending her, of making her upset. He didn’t want this to be convenient for her just because it was inconvenient for him.

So, yes, when he thought about it in real terms, he had options that were available. He had ways of fixing this.

But if he was being honest with himself, if he did have to come up with the answer in a split-second decision...

“No, I can’t.”

Mentally, he couldn’t. Because, of all things, his mother.

“That’s not an option for me. I’m keeping it,” Alexander sighed and felt good. At just acknowledging it. The fact that this was going to be his life now.

Martha studied him for a few seconds, her gaze hard. Her fingers tapped against her cup. Alexander bounced his knee, fidgeting. Less nervous, more resigned. She had no right to be mad if she even was. Alexander couldn’t figure out her feelings in this, but he got the sense that she wasn’t exactly thrilled.

“Okay,” she said, nodding, sitting forward. She reached for Alexander's hands. Her palms warm.

“Okay, so you’re going to do this, and you need to tell Thomas.”

Alexander nodded.

“You’re mad," he muttered. He cursed himself the second it came out of his mouth, but there was real fear there. He was having a baby and he didn't want anyone to be mad at him for it. 

Martha gave him a soft smile, her gaze intent. She squeezed his hand between her own.

“No, darling, I’m not. That’s not… I don’t get to be mad. That’s between you and him.”

Alexander wanted to be happy about that, to at least feel better. Instead, he felt dread sit low in his stomach. He pulled his hand back from her so he could bury his face into them and just groan.

“He’s going to be so mad. Fuck. How do I even tell him?”

“Maybe. I don’t know that he’ll be mad, Alex. Maybe freaked out. But he’s always wanted kids.”

Alexander groaned louder. He dropped his hands to the table.

“Not with me,” he grunted. How was this even going to work now? On the chance that Thomas was going to want to be a part of this, how were they going to have a baby together? How were they going to do this together went they weren’t even _together?_

Martha’s face scrunched up weirdly.

“Some advice? Tell him as soon as you can. Maybe not now, he’s got a case at the moment. But soon. Just say it, and if he’s mad, chances are it’s only because it’s now and not later.”

Alexander frowned.

“What does that even mean?”

Martha shrugged and picked up her cup. Stared at him while she took a long sip, silent for what felt like minutes.

“He’s twenty-seven. It’s about time he had kids anyway.”

Alexander wanted to groan. Was she not understanding a key part of this?

“Martha, we’re not together. There are no ‘kids’. It’s just this baby. We're not a family.”

Martha pursed her lips.

“I get it,” she muttered, her voice high, “I know.”

Alexander stared, thought that maybe she didn’t really get it.

Alexander sighed heavily, thoughts muddled. Martha watched him pick at the frayed edges of his coat, one arm crossed, drink set on her bottom lip. She looked like she was contemplating, but Alexander was starting to feel frustrated and annoyed. So frustrated that he could feel it squeeze tight in his throat.  

“You know, that was the reason we broke up,” she smiled softly.

Alexander's gaze flickered up to stare at her. He bit at his lip thinking about her words.

“Because you were pregnant?” There was an awful lot he didn’t know about her.

Martha chuckled.

“Because he wanted kids and I didn’t. It was a big thing for him.”

Oh. No, Alexander hadn’t known that. He always assumed it had something to do with how opposite end their careers were. It had been so long ago. They’d barely been dating when Alexander even met Thomas.

“It was?” Alexander frowned, realised that wasn’t a whole lot he knew about Thomas either.

“Yeah,” Martha gazed down at the table, her smile turning fond. “He was such a sucker for that shit. Wanted to get married, have kids, live somewhere fancy and expensive, the rich fuck,” she laughed. Alexander smiled.

“Not many people know this but we were engaged at one point.”

Alexander scoffed, surprised.

“Seriously?”

This was a thing that never crossed Alexander’s mind. Thomas engaged? Thomas asking Martha to marry him. It tripped him up a little, made him laugh.

“Yeah. But it was at the end. I think we were sort of trying to save our relationship.” She shook her head “Sorry. Not an interesting topic.”

Alexander shrugged.

“It’s okay. I didn’t know that.”

Something hit him a little, though. Some realisation that he couldn’t offer that either. That Thomas probably wasn’t going to find a person to settle down with for a while because of this. The whole baby thing.

And neither was he, although that realisation felt more like a comfort if anything.

“Oh, shit, Martha,” Alexander sighed, his gut wrenching with emotions he couldn’t understand. Martha looked at him, concerned.

“I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to ruin his fucking life.”

He leaned forward and groaned into his hands, throat tight. Alexander didn’t want to fool himself into thinking that this thing with Thomas was more than it was. They knew nothing about each other. They argued with each other until it had to be broken up because neither of them could be wrong. Their personalities were opposite on the spectrum. But Alexander didn’t want to ruin his life. He didn’t want to fuck with anyone’s life like that.

A hand landed on his forearm, rubbing softly.

“Alex, can I be honest? I think this is going to have more of an effect on your life then it is on his.” She paused for a few seconds. Long enough for Alexander to rub at his face and peek over his fingers to look at her.

“Thomas has always wanted kids. And I don’t really know what you guys call your relationship, but he likes you at least. This could be worst for him. I feel like it’s probably worst for you.”

Worst for him because he didn’t want kids or a family or a _relationship._ He just wanted his job and his friends and to get laid occasionally.

 “We just have sex,” he muttered, voice thick. It wasn’t a relationship.

Martha sighed.

“Yeah, I guess. Thomas doesn’t really do casual. You’re the exception,” she sounded resigned.

 _I’m the exception,_ Alexander thought bitterly.

* * *

 

 

Martha pulled him into a hug when they made it out into the cold street. She squeezed hard, her skinny arms around his ribs.

“We should get dinner sometime,” she said, smiling when she pulled back to look at him. Alexander returned it.

“We should.”

When all of this blows over, he wanted to say. Whenever that was.

 He tried not to be awkward when she stepped back and shoved her hands into her coat pockets.

“Thanks for your help, Martha. I needed it.”

Martha grinned at him.

“You’ll be fine. All three of you will. Call me if you need anything.”

She waved at him. Alexander returned it and watched her as she left.

_All three of us._

What a thought.

* * *

 

 

Thursday came and went with the same hurried fervour that he’d been feeling all week. Too busy to think besides those moments of peace he found during the lull in activity. He chatted with John, agreed to get drinks together before they headed out for Thanksgiving and Lafayette flew back home. Started look at recipes, texting Eliza back and forth. Thought, sometime before he drifted off to sleep, about how he was going to have to tell them. That maybe during Thanksgiving, while they were all together, would be the best time. Whatever that meant. The thought of telling everyone had him tossing and turning most of the night.

Late during his lunch break, sometime around two, while he was picking at his yoghurt and staring off into space, Martha texted him.

It was a blurry picture, looked like it was taken in passing. Maybe in a shopping centre? Alexander could see a sales sign in the far-left corner that boasted 50 percent off whatever they were selling. The text read:

_14:07  
He won. The fuck?_

Alexander laughed, could make out the television that was obviously switched to the news. There was a figure standing almost centre, hand out, standing straight, navy suit. Thomas was only recognizable because of the sea of curly hair that he’d pulled back to rest on the nape of his neck. The news line underneath was illegible and cut off.

Alexander sat back in his chair and laughed.

**14:08  
How???**

He almost wanted to call her. Say, ‘of course he won?’ but in all honesty, the reason why he hadn’t been paying close attention to the whole thing was that he really didn’t think Thomas was going to be able to pull this one off with nothing but the lack of physical evidence.

_14:09  
I honestly have no idea?? Like they didn’t even play on the fact that she was sexually assaulted on anything. I hope someone posts a video of his closing statement on youtube, that shit was crazy. People were maaaaaddd_

Her next text was just a string of laughing crying emoji’s. Alexander chuckled while he pulled up his phone’s browser to read the headlines.

_14:11  
So now that its over and everything feel free to bother him with ANYTHING you need_

It was followed by another string of emoji’s. Red hearts that made him smile, but also made him nervous.

So.

Yes.

Now that it was.

Honestly, not that he’d been waiting for it to be over. The fact that Thomas had been in court since Monday had barely crossed his mind. The only time he had stopped to think about it was when he noticed that there was a severe lack of messages from him. It was more accurate to say that he’d been waiting for the weekend maybe. Could run into Thomas on Saturday somehow. Even as much as that idea made him cringe. They could talk it out however long they needed to, then Alexander could go on forgetting the whole conversations while he caught up with John, Lafayette and Hercules.

He didn’t want to seem like an incompetent that couldn’t text someone and ask to meet them, but the very idea of telling Thomas that they needed to ‘talk’ made his cringe and feel gross.

Alexander tapped at his phone and pulled up Martha’s number again.

_14:16  
Great. Excited. Elated. Whats his address? Ill send him a congratulations mug with number 1 dad written on it._

A pop up appeared on his screen. A new email. Alexander groaned and threw his phone. Nudged his mouse to wake up his computer.

“Hey.”

A figure appeared in his door. Alexander glanced up and grinned.

Carlos stepped in with a smile. Tall, dark skin, thick wavy hair, always wearing something dark blue, worked a couple of offices down. Attractive.

Alexander’s weakness.

Gross, gross weakness.

Yes, he was ashamed.

Alexander smiled softly.

“Hey. Busy?”

Carlos laughed, tone mellow. He stepped out of the doorway and leaned against it, arms folded. Alexander suppressed his groan.

“Barely. I feel like you get all the real shit. Suzan could let up a little.”

Alexander laughed. Leaned back in his chair and pushed his hair away from his face.

“Yeah, that would be nice. She just sent me an email and I’m a little afraid to open this close to Thanksgiving.”

He was trying to be casual about the fact that he looked like a racoon, but wasn’t quite sure he was pulling it off.

Goddamn, how did this man he barely spoke to have Alexander always so put out and nervous.

“Don’t do it,” Carlos snickered, his Spanish accent thick. “Just tell her you didn’t see. I don’t think she’d give you anything too strenuous. She mentioned you’ve been feeling kind of sick lately.”

Oh, shit. He hadn’t told his boss about any of it. Despite being sent home Wednesday, Alexander had been trying for casual and inconspicuous. Didn’t want to make it obvious that he was sick because she always got weird about having sick people in the offices.

Alexander glanced away, fingers fiddling with the end of his tie.

“Yeah, could be doing better.”

“Good time for it, I guess. At least you have the holidays to relax. Got any plans?”

Carlos was still standing against the doorframe, slouched and relaxed. Alexander wanted him to come in at least so that they weren’t having a conversation from opposite sides of the room.

“Same old. Spending it with my old foster family in Albany. Still going to Florida?”

Carlos swung his arms down and pushed up his sleeves, his forearms thick and dusted with long dark coils of hair. Alexander’s gaze dropped down to watch him do it, almost flushing. God, what he would do to run his fingers over those arms.

“Yeah, same old. My sister’s bringing her son, which is a weird change.”

Something came to Alexander then; a previous conversation they’d had on the way out of work a couple of months ago.

“Oh, I forgot. She had her baby. I didn’t know she was having a boy.”

“Yeah, he’s great. Five months now. My mother still isn’t over it. She keeps buying all these crappy overly American tee shirts and socks for him. Jana hates it.”

Alexander laughed. Carlos grinned and pushed off the frame to step a little closer. He looked delighted, and it made Alexander feel nervous and alive. Conscious of the attraction that Alexander was sure was mutual.

Alexander just wished they’d stopped dancing around it.

Which was very hypocritical of him.

Alexander fidgeted with the end if his tie, lapsing into silence. He flushed a little, trying to think of something to say. He was aware that they didn’t know a whole lot about each other except what passed between them over the kettle in the break room. They’d only been working in the same business for a year.  He wanted to change that, had been trying to ask Carlos out for a drink for a while. Couldn’t seem to find the courage or the time.

 If Angelica knew anything about this, she’d scold Alexander for taking so long.

That thought made him laugh a little.

Alexander watched him hunch his shoulder and stick his hands into his pockets, confident smile on his face.

“Hey, if you don’t end up getting too busy after Thanksgiving, we should grab a drink sometime. Actually get around to it.”

 Alexander smiled, face colouring with embarrassment. Last time being months ago when they’d made plans and Alexander had to cancel because he’d forgotten about a prior commitment. Never got around to rescheduling.

“Yeah, let’s do it. Maybe sometime after work? Weekends can be hell for me.”

Carlos gave him a warm grin.

“Wonderful.”

* * *

 

 

The self-loathing kicked in two hours after that.

Alexander made it home eventually. It took longer than he’d expected. He’d missed his stop on the train, had to backtrack a little. Ended up walking the difference because his mind was too preoccupied to really consider the cold or the light drizzle.

Once the kettle was on, coat hung up, shoes stuffed at the end of his bed, Alexander felt the thrill of the day wear off into something gloomier. He laid back against the covers and closed his eyes, listened to the kettle bubble.

He’d spent the rest of the day in a frenzy. Working, finishing things up before he left because he wasn’t coming back to work for a whole week. Didn’t look at his phone, forgot to really check the time until Suzan had popped in around six and told him to go home. His mind had been elsewhere on the train. Sat staring off into space, fixed on some spot by the window while people bumped and pushed their way on.

The excitement, the idea, of doing something with Carlos, getting a drink, chatting, getting to know each other, did eventually wear off.

He’d expected it to at least last a little longer. Maybe until he got home where he could unwind and relax and remember that he was awful at upholding relationships and liked being on his own more than not. But he’d started feeling it by five. Exhaustion and hunger and sticky, like he just wanted to go home and stand under the spray with a bottle of wine. Crawl into bed with his laptop, fall asleep to a movie. Forget that he existed for a while.

Sometimes he couldn’t do that. Like his brain didn’t want him to forget that he was useless at being around people and holding on to them. So instead of feeling good in the shower, he was tense and annoyed at himself. Annoyed that he couldn’t just pull it together. Prioritize, compartmentalize, tidy his life up a little. What he’d said to Peggy about relationships had been true. He didn’t feel like he needed to be dating someone, to worry about whether he was ever going to fall in love and get married. His career was important to him, and his friends were more important than that. Anything else seemed more like a luxury.

But, for one stupid and unhelpful second, while Alexander listened to the kettle click off, Alexander imagined what it would feel like to crawl into bed next to another person. Didn’t feel guilty when he thought of Carlos smiling at him. Getting drinks together, a warm hand on the back of his neck or his thigh, leaning in close, voices low and intimate.

The self-loathing was a part of him now. He was past trying to deny it. It sat in the room with him next to the sockets in the wall and the dust bunnies that lined the unused vase that Eliza had gifted him with. The gloom that came with it was a cloak of familiarity that he didn’t try to push off. It was frustrating and hard, but it had a sense of normality about it that Alexander learned to live with.

He didn’t _want_ to be alone, but he was, and he wasn’t willing to shift too drastically to change that.

Maybe not yet anyway.

Alexander laid there so long that he had to re-boil the kettle again.

The apartment was quiet and dark. The curtain was partially open, but it didn’t make too much of a difference. The only light came from the lamp he’d turned on when he passed it, absentmindedly, thoughts elsewhere.

He set up his laptop when he was done. Set his tea down beside the bed, shed out of his work clothes, strolled into the bathroom to put them in the basket, hung up his tie, retrieved his pajamas from under his pillow and got comfortable. He flicked through Netflix, found a random movie in the action genre. His phone lit up on the bedside drawer but he was slow in picking it up, mind blank.

Three messages from Martha that he didn’t really feel like reading, and one from Carlos.

Great.

Alexander set his phone back down, opted not to read it. Was already feeling shitty about his life choices, didn’t want a reminder. He let his phone drop to the floor and curled in on his side, his laptop laying sideways against his knees.

Partway through the second movie, one of the first things that Netflix suggested for him, his eyelids started to flutter. His stomach hurt a little from hunger-pains, and he realised a little belatedly that he hadn’t touched his tea at all.

Typical.

He shut the lid and set the laptop on the ground beside his bed, laid out on his back, his mind bordering on groggy. Tomorrow was Saturday. No alarm, no early morning commitments.

Alexander stood from the bed and closed the curtain. He opened the fridge, peeked into the crisper and found two green apples, half a box of button mushrooms, one tomato and some baby corn. He opted for an apple, giving it a rinse under the tap before he took a bite. He scratched at his stomach, stood in the middle of the room. His mind felt far away, but his hand stilled, a thought coming to him. He sighed.

Sometimes, for whatever reason, he could forget. Rare moments when he was busy or tired or felt like shit, it wouldn’t even cross his mind that he was pregnant, that his life _was_ shifting drastically, even if it wasn’t too evident at the moment.

Alexander groaned, bit at his apple and picked his phone up off the ground. He opened the messages from Martha first.

_14:18:  
No!!! im stealing that!! You’re now officially not allowed to do that. Evr. Im going to!!_

_14:18  
88 greenwich street 609_

_14:22  
are you going to be okay? Let me know how it goes once you’ve spoken to him_

Alexander didn’t text back, ignored the message from Carlos without looking at the preview.

Was he going to be okay?

Okay, yes, he was. Because he always was.

But was he okay now?

Absolutely not. He didn’t want to tell her that, but it was a definite feeling that sat low in his gut, making him feel more ill than strictly necessary.

He set his phone down, the display glowing, flashing the time. It was nearing ten. he curled his toes into the fuzzy rug beneath his feet feeling antsy and annoyed. His mind was all over the place, couldn’t find a place to settle. It was the distinct feeling of having one too many things to do and not knowing where to start. Frustrated that he hadn’t started at all.

He tried to make a checklist in his head, to compartmentalize, but the only thing that made itself clear was that in the next two days he had to tell Thomas that he was pregnant.

Because in the next three days, Thomas would be out of the state to visit his family for Thanksgiving and Alexander didn’t know what to do next with the baby, what step to take next, and he didn’t want to take any steps until they discussed it together.

So, two days.

Between now and Sunday afternoon.

Alexander sighed, felt resigned and tired and a little out of his league. He wondered what would happen if he did it now. Just showed up at Thomas’s door and told him. No pretence, no small talk, just Alexander standing in Thomas’s open doorway with those three words on his lips.

A funny thought. One that had Alexander snickering, trying to picture Thomas’s dumbstruck expression.

Stupid.

Very, very stupid.

But effective, and probably not all that different in circumstances if he waited longer.

Alexander chewed his lip still, feeling very stupid. He realised that he just had to do it. Couldn’t wait for the courage to bubble up because it wasn’t going to. Like ripping off a band-aid. Or bandage. Or some other life-altering piece of medical equipment. He just had to.

Alexander rubbed his eyes and yawned. Okay, so he had to. He was going to. He set down his half-eaten apple and started stripping out if his clothes. Opened his drawers to pull out appropriate pants and a shirt. Pulled them on, wriggled into some thick socks, dark sweater, grey scarf wrapped around his neck, hands shoved into his gloves. He pulled his coat on last, checked his pocket for his phone, wallet and keys. He shot Martha a quick text while he pulled his shoes on.

When he turned to close the door behind him, he took one last look at his bed, considered forgetting about all of this and crawling back in, setting up a quiet movie to fall asleep too. Worry about it in the morning when it wasn’t so close to midnight.

Alexander exhaled hard in disappointment and locked the door on the way out.

* * *

 

 

There were three expressions that passed along Thomas’s face between the time he opened the door and the time he spoke.

The first two Alexander saw coming. One being initial surprise, the second one melting into a neutral smile.

The third, though, almost had Alexander laughing. Which was fair game because it was eleven thirty at night and he was almost hysterical about this situation himself.

“Alexander,” Thomas muttered, brows pulling up in confusion, studying him. “Ah, are you okay?”

Alexander had to bite his tongue to stop himself from snorting.

“Wonderful. I brought beer.”

He held out said item. A six pack of Fosters that he’d picked up when he’d gotten off the train. Thomas didn’t even glance down at it. He looked like he was scowling at someplace by Alexander’s scarf.

“What for?”

Good. Play ignorant. Whatever. It wasn’t like Alexander was freezing his ass off or anything.

“To celebrate? Martha told me all about it. Apparently, you kicked ass. Congrats.”

There was an underlining of awkwardness there. He felt like he was having an out-of-body experience with the way he was standing there, waiting to be let it like he was here to actually celebrate. This was new. He didn’t know how to do this.

It probably didn’t help that he was soaked down to his tee shirt from the absolute shit storm that he’d gotten caught in the moment he was above ground.

Alexander was almost praying that Thomas wouldn’t dwell on it for too long.

“Thanks,” he murmured absentmindedly, looking a little closer to amused at Alexander’s sarcastic tone. “You’re wet?”

Fair call. Alexander almost slapped him at the way he phrased it. Like it wasn’t totally obvious that he’d walked part way here and got caught in it.

Alexander did shoot him a nonplussed look, though.

“It’s raining?” He tried to mimic Thomas’s stupid tone.

Thomas’s expression was somewhere between amused and exasperated now. He gave Alexander’s coat one last futile look before he stepped back and held the door open, a motion for Alexander to enter. Alexander ignored him as he passed, almost made it to the kitchen before Thomas grabbed hold of his shoulder.

“Stop. Bathroom. Give me this.”

He didn’t wait for Alexander. Thomas took the cans from his arms and pushed him towards the bedroom.

“Take your clothes off, I’ll put them in the dryer.”

He could feel himself starting to shiver. Pliant when Thomas guided him into the bedroom. He almost said thank you, muttered a sarcastic “woah, already?” instead, before stripping out of his scarf and coat as he stepped onto the tile. Laid them down over the side of the tub, toed his shoes off. The moment he pulled both his sweatshirt and tee shirt over his head, he instantly felt better, warmer. Thomas came in with a shallow round basket and dropped it on the tile, barely looking at Alexander.

“Here. They’ll be a bit big,” he laid a folded pile of clothes on the closed toilet seat.

 “Chuck everything in there and bring it out.”

He waited until Alexander caught his eye before he left, closing the bathroom door behind him. Alexander sighed and continued stripping. Dropped his pants into the basket and pawed at the pile of clothes. He pulled the grey slacks on first, thanking the air that it had a drawstring. He looked down at himself, laughing a little at the size difference. Alexander supposed they were more of a slim fit on Thomas. On him, they were looser around his thighs and waist. The top was a flannel button-up, red and chequered and ridiculously big. He felt stupid wearing it. Looked it in the mirror and had to remind himself that it didn’t matter.

His hair was so wet it dripped. He reached for one of the towels hanging on the rack and rubbed at the strands with it. Still looking in the mirror, trying not to let the nerves eat at him. This was stupid. He was stupid. He was standing in Thomas’s bathroom, wearing Thomas’s clothes, about to tell Thomas that he was pregnant.

Fuck.

Stupid.

What a stupid time to do this.

Alexander inhaled sharply, wrinkling his nose at the scent that he caught. It was a silly thing to notice, how smothered he was in washing detergent and pine. Could understand why it was so easy to smell it now. Wondered how much stronger Thomas’s scent would be if Alexander pressed his nose into Thomas’s neck. How much thicker, how much more enticing.

Alexander scowled, pulled at his hair roughly to distract himself. He chucked it into the basket along with the rest of his clothes. His coat and scarf and socks all in before he opened the door and picked up the basket.

The overhead light in the living room and kitchen were off. The only light came from a few lamps that were on here and there, two by the lounges, one in the corner next to the small dining table. The curtains were partially open, television off, books stacked neatly in the corner on the shelf. The room erupted with little bits of colour here and there. It made everything feel warm.

Thomas was leaning against the kitchen counter, phone in hand. He looked up when Alexander set the basket down, a small grin on his face.

“What?” Alexander asked, cocked his hip against the kitchen bench as well, vast amounts of space between them. Thomas’s expression looked oddly hooded, like he was about to start breaking out the wine and romance Alexander off his feet.

Hah.

“Martha’s giving me shit about the case,” Thomas chuckled, throwing his phone down on the counter.

“She said it was flawless.”

Thomas sighed airily, “she thinks I bribed someone.”

Alexander was surprised by how hard he laughed. That thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“Did you?”

Thomas threw him an unamused look. Alexander couldn’t stop chuckling.

“Here, I’m going to put these in the dryer,” He pushed over one of the cans of beer as he passed. Thomas took the basket, shoulder brushing into Alexander’s, and disappeared back down the hall. Alexander yawned and eyed the can wearily, fingers coming out to run along it.

He’d bought the beer as a distraction. Started doubting himself on the train. Very nearly turned back because, what a stupid idea, right? Turn up at Thomas’s apartment nearing eleven thirty. He wanted to just say it, get it out into the open and then leave. It would give them both time to really think about it over the weekend. But the more he’d thought about it on the way over, the sillier it sounded.

Alexander picked up the can and snapped it open. He took a sip as he stepped away from the kitchen, knew that he needed to be more careful now that he was pregnant. He wandered over to the shelf by the windows, squinting to read all the different titles in the low light. There were trinkets lined up as well, sitting next to an intricately cut photo frame.  Alexander picked it up and brought it closer to the light.

The landscape was vast and mostly blue, with peeks of white and green. A woman, dark skin, long, long hair, stood on an outcropping of rock, overlooking a glacial river. The water was aqua blue, sat in a valley surrounded by sharp cut mountains, paths of snow sitting at the top. The woman was short, smiling, very beautiful. Looked everything like Thomas. Alexander wasn’t sure if Thomas had any siblings. Maybe it was his mother?

Alexander set the frame back down, ran his finger along the spines of a few works that he made out were by Shakespeare. He took another drink from his beer, pulled out one of the copies. The Taming of The Shrew. Alexander chuckled, set it back and peeled back another to read.

Alexander turned when he heard Thomas shuffle back in after a few minutes, the empty washing basket set carelessly by one of the lounges. Standing a good few metres away, Alexander got a good look at him, couldn’t help but notice that it looked like he was about to go out. Hit button up was white and slim, stuck to the outline of his chest, rolled up his forearms. Thomas had thick forearms, hard muscles that felt good to touch. Alexander grimaced and set his jaw.

“I thought you’d be out tonight. Celebrating or whatever.”

Actually, the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind the entire evening.

Thomas shrugged.

“I was for a little bit. It wasn’t all the interesting.”

Thomas pushed off the counter and came to step closer, both of them lapsing into silence. Alexander breathed out a sigh, searching for the courage to say something. To say what he’d come to say. Thomas was close enough to touch, his eyes boring into Alexander, bright and on fire. There was the loud and incessant drone of rain against the windows, the sound of their breathing. He could do it now before he got distracted.

“Hey, listen, can I…” he started, voice shaky and thick in his throat. Thomas came forward and took his drink from his hand. Alexander opened his mouth to try again, to continue, but it got stuck in his throat. Thomas was standing so close, smelling like cologne and ash, like a dwindling campfire, woodsy and natural. Alexander didn’t notice the hand until it settled at the back of his neck and pulled him in.

This, the idea that Thomas might think this was something else, that Alexander was here for the very same reason that he was always here, had not even crossed his mind. Was stunned when Thomas dragged him forward, head bent down so that he could kiss Alexander. He hadn’t expected it to be, but the kiss was hard and passionate. Alexander stuttered for a second, unsure what he was supposed to do. Thomas was kissing him so quickly that Alexander felt swept up in it, pulled along and dragged undertow.

Thomas leaned further in, bringing his other arm to cinch around Alexander’s waist, bringing their bodies closer together until Alexander could feel every piece of them touching from their hips to their chests. He brought his hands up to lay against Thomas’s shoulders. Wanted it as a safeguard because as much as he liked this, kissing Thomas, he was too on edge, his nerves almost making him shake.

Thomas was breathing almost erratically, biting at Alexander’s lips, then soothing over them with his tongue. Alexander felt himself go weak. Wanted to shed everything off and just do this. Kiss Thomas and run his hands over skin and let himself be led into distraction.

Alexander leaned back, brought his arms up to wrap around Thomas’s neck so that he wasn’t squished so uncomfortably. He shifted, pressed open mouth kisses to Thomas’s lips, trying to turn it into something a little shallower. Thomas’s lips were damp and soft. Alexander kept his eyes closed.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Alexander murmured, too nervous to think about his words. Dumb. They sounded dumb.

Thomas smiled against his lips and leaned forward to press soft, wet kisses to the corner of his mouth.

“No? I thought you came over here to congratulate me.”

Thomas’s tone caught him up. It was light and amused, almost like he was about to laugh. Almost a little mocking. Alexander felt his nerves catch in his throat and dissipate a little when he chuckled.

“What’d you think the beer was for?” He snickered, pressing back into another wet kiss. Alexander could feel Thomas’s grin against his lips, felt good about it, about putting it there.

Thomas ignored him, kissed him deeper, tongue flitting against Alexander. He pulled them both together tightly.

This was the thing about having sex with Thomas while he was sober. Not so much that he thought about doing, but in the minutes after he’d woken up in Thomas bed, he’d consider how much more embarrassing it would be than it already was. Alexander had the distinct feeling that he and Thomas were a lot more intimate than usual for two people who barely spoke outside of the bedroom. He didn’t want to complain. He liked it when sex was intimate, when he felt very emotionally connected to the person he was doing it with. But something about doing it with Thomas felt a little different. Like the intimacy they shared was a lead up to something.

Alexander didn’t want this to feel like something it was never going to be. Not with Thomas.

He brought a hand up to curl in Thomas’s hair, frizzy and thick between his fingers. It gave him better leverage to kiss back. He stood there, warm and alive, voluntarily forgetting why he’d come in the first place. Was happy to let Thomas lead and press into his mouth, hold him tight and possessive. He was struck by how good it felt.

Thomas sighed when Alexander curled his tongue back, trying to figure out what it was that he tasted like. He shivered when a hand caught under his shirt, sliding along the ridges of his spine. Soft circles rubbed into the small of his back, right where his pants sat on his waist. Alexander brought his hands down a little, sliding against Thomas’s neck to dig his fingers into his collarbones. He wanted to rip at the buttons, get the shirt off Thomas so that he could see the tattoo and the hard muscles and downy hair. Wanted Thomas to do the same.

He wasn’t expecting Thomas to pull back so suddenly. Almost chased his lips before he realised that Thomas was letting go of him sans the arm around his waist. Alexander opened his eyes to look, caught Thomas’s hooded expression, the grin, before he was turning around, pulling Alexander with him.

Alexander almost stumbled, grinning a little, wanting it a lot more. Thomas set the forgotten can of beer down on the kitchen counter as they passed, pulling Alexander down along the hall. He could hear himself chuckling a little, feeling good, feeling wanted.

The bedroom was dark besides the open curtain and the bathroom light that Alexander hadn’t turned off. Thomas didn’t flick the light switch; pulled Alexander along until he was by the end of the bed. Pulled him in for a little open-mouthed kiss before he was encouraging Alexander onto the bed. Alexander went willing, folding into the way Thomas guided him to lay back against the pillows. Alexander laid back and stared at the way Thomas pulled his knees apart. His heart was hammering, stomach clenching in interest, whole body thrumming with it.

Thomas crawled up towards Alexander, eyes glued everywhere but his face. He pulled Alexander’s knees up and open, let himself fold into the space it made. Their chest pressed together, Thomas’s arms out to support him himself while he leaned over Alexander and brought them back into a kiss. Hard and wet, like they hadn’t ever stopped.

Alexander almost felt like a mess, caught under the weight. Breathing hard, couldn’t stop noticing these things that he never usually did. Like the texture of Thomas’s hair, or the way their bodies fit together. The stuff he never usually concerned himself with. Thomas’s soft lips against his chapped ones, the abrupt feeling every time their teeth clicked together, the satisfying, _arousing_ feeling of having someone held in in the space between his legs. The stuff he never noticed when he was drunk and just wanted to get laid.

Alexander’s hands landed on Thomas’s back, pushing up and under his shirt, sliding along hot skin. Curling down until his thumbs pressed into Thomas’s jutting hipbones. Over Thomas’s fluttering stomach until his index finger ran into a hard nipple. Thomas made a rough noise in the back of his throat when Alexander ran his fingers over both of them, squeezing them between his index and thumb. He soothed them by rubbing softly, using the palm of his hands to rub along Thomas’s pectorals, feel how warm the skin was, the harsh thump of a heartbeat on one side. The kiss was heady and rough, making him feel dizzy and satisfied and a little like he was drooling. It felt like it stretched on for ages.

Alexander could feel his jaw getting sore when Thomas pulled back. Hovered over him for a second before he nosed against Alexander’s scent glands, breathing deeply. It was a shock at how fast Alexander snapped out of it, his toes curling into the covers as the anxiety hit him full on again. The reason he was here, the reason Thomas was so aware of his scent. Alexander locked his jaw, tried to ignore it and concentrate on the sharp and biting kisses Thomas was leaving a trail down his throat.

Thomas bit softly at his collarbone before he pulled back to hover over Alexander. Both arms moving over Alexander’s torso as Thomas moved back to sit on his heels between Alexanders legs. Alexander watched him start pulling at his buttons, flicking a couple undone until it was open enough to pull over his head. Alexander almost groaned at the view he got. Suddenly became so self-aware of how attracted he was to Thomas in the physical sense.

Thomas let the shirt drop over the side of the bed. Reached down to start on Alexander’s own flannel button up. Alexander was eager to help, shifted a bit so Thomas could peel it down his arms. His hands got lost somewhere along the way, Thomas making an amused sound in his throat at the way Alexander ran his palms over his sides, settling on sharp hipbones once again. Alexander’s hands drifted lower, tugged at Thomas’s waistband, feeling comfortable and floaty and patient. He didn’t care to take it slow, but he wasn't feeling all that up to rushing through like they always did.

“Up,” Thomas muttered, voice rough, pulling at Alexander’s pants. Alexander let him, lifting his hips so that Thomas could pull them down, his briefs with them. He was slightly embarrassed for the amount of time it took for Thomas to drop them on the ground and stand up from the bed. Got caught up, instead, in watching Thomas strip bare, eyes stuck to every inch of dark skin that he hadn’t been able to see before.

Neither of them were all that hard yet, but Alexander was enticed by the fervour in which Thomas crawled back up the bed and lifted one of Alexander’s knees up to kiss. Trailed all the way down his leg until he came to a hipbone. Alexander shuddered, teeth scraping, almost whined at the warm breath so close to his stirring cock. He reached down to grab at Thomas, fingers brushing against his neck. Wanted to bring him up for a kiss or make him kiss Alexander somewhere else. The expression Thomas shot him when he looked up was dark and hooded, aroused.

Thomas had Alexander stunned; pierced under his gaze as Thomas crawled back up, head dipping down so he could kiss up Alexander’s chest. Alexander moaned weakly, anticipating it when Thomas licked across his nipple. His other hand came up to toy with the other one in the same way Alexander had done to him. Only, Thomas was less forgiving about it, rougher. He bit hard, quickly, pinching both at the same time. Alexander shuddered, arched his back a little, feeling good, feeling satisfied at the pain. He moaned when Thomas soothed the ache with his tongue

He didn’t spend too long there. Thomas switched, gave the same treatment to the other nipple, pulling it between his lips and sucking gently, teeth harsh. Alexander barely noticed that he had such a tight grip on Thomas’s hair. When Thomas crawled the rest of the way up, Alexander pulled him done hard, their teeth clacking together as they kissed. Wet and passionate, no finesse.

Instead of holding himself up on his elbows, Thomas lowered himself gently until his body was flush against Alexander’s. Alexander almost stopped, moaned loudly, completely unchecked because –

Oh.

That.

That felt like heaven.

All that weight holding him down. He could barely move, squished between the covers and Thomas’s hard, warm body. Could feel Thomas breathe all the way down to how hard his cock was against Alexander’s hip. Alexander untangled one hand from Thomas’s hair, slinked it across his side until he could squeeze it in between their stomachs. Thomas let him, arched his hips up a little and breathed out a moan when Alexander took hold of his cock and pulled, thumb rubbing over the head.

It was going to be painful after long with no lube, but Alexander rubbed gently. Made a circle with his index and thumb and squeezed it up and down the head. Thomas shifted, tilted to the side a little so Alexander had more room. They were still kissing, Alexander’s fingers tight in Thomas’s curls, swallowing every soft sound that Thomas made. He was a little caught off guard how good that sounded to him, how tight his belly curled whenever Thomas moaned or sighed into him.

He tightened his grip eventually, moving his hand faster, his wrist starting to ache. He used his whole hand to jack Thomas off, rubbing his thumb over the slit, picking up the pre that started to form. He was aching himself, wanted to shift so that he could rub there cocks together, get them both off at the same time, but it felt good to do just this. To have Thomas pressed into him, boxing him in with his knees pulled up, using his hand to pull out those sweet sounds. Like making a little cubby where it was just them and their harsh breathing.

He wanted to keep going, aching wrist be damned. Wanted to spit in his hand and add more friction, but didn’t want to stop. Thomas’s body was growing taunt, his kisses getting shallow, less tongue, more biting. Alexander kept him held there against his mouth, breathing in his soft sounds and his scent. Thomas was enticingly hard in his hand despite the lack of lube, and Alexander ached a little, craved some friction for himself. Imagined the moment when Thomas would push into him. Head first, stretching him wide and making him ache for it. The rest coming after, Thomas leaning over him, fucking into him, harsh and unrelenting. Alexander’s toes curled in the covers, his cock aching.

He wasn’t prepared for the sudden movement after that. Thomas pulling back from the kiss, hand coming down to hold tight to Alexander’s wrist. Alexander stopped, eyes blinking open as he listened to Thomas breath hard. He let go at Thomas’s prompting, his hand falling to the bed.

“Okay?” He asked before he could think, his voice gruff.

Thomas was breathing hard. Alexander couldn’t really see his expression in the dark, but he spoke as if he was entirely out of breath.

“You want to make me come too soon?”

Alexander couldn’t help the chuckle.

“Already?” He asked, his tone teasing. He jumped when Thomas’s hand came down hard on his thigh, stinging on contact.

“Hey, fuck,” he muttered, no real heat in it. It barely hurt, the skin warming.

“You don’t want to tease me, Alexander. You won’t like what I’ll do to you,” Thomas murmured, voice short, heated. Alexander scoffed, letting go of Thomas’s hair as he shifted. His stomach clench at the words though, the heated tone. Wondered what that meant. Wanted to dip his toes in a little just to get a feel.

Thomas moved away from him, up on his knees so that he could reach for the bedside drawer. The position had him leaning over Alexander slightly. Alexander curled his fingers around his own cock, jerking himself off slowly. There was silence beside the both of them breathing, Thomas rummaging around. The scent in the air, while Alexander couldn’t name, was strong and comfortable.

Thomas shuffled back once had had what he needed. Sat back on his heels between Alexander’s legs. Alexander flushed slightly, fingers still curled around his cock, at how exposed he was. He could barely see what Thomas was doing, but he heard the cap of the lube. Thomas shifted, shuffling back a little. He reached out and stilled Alexander’s hand, fingers around his wrist, pulling.

“Up,” he muttered, insistent. Alexander frowned, following his lead, a little reluctant.

Thomas guided him until Alexander was on his knees, both facing each other.

“Okay, turn. Turn around. Back to me.”

Alexander moved as he was guided, kneeling on his knees, facing the top of the bed instead of the bottom. He waited for Thomas to push at his back to get him down on his hands. Was surprised when Thomas moved in close, his front flush against Alexander’s back.

Thomas started with two fingers. Alexander jumped when they touched his rim, the lube not quite as cold. Thomas spread it around his hole a little, swirling and coating his fingers. When he pushed in, Alexander shuddered, leaned further back. Thomas’s other arm came around to sit flat on his stomach, soft pressure keeping him in place. Thomas didn’t waste any time; stroked his fingers hard and deep. Alexander whined, caught off guard by the sudden pressure against his prostate. His hand shot up, curling over Thomas’s on his stomach, needing something to hold onto.

Thomas was liberal about his touches. Curled his fingers hard and sharp and insistent, breathing hard against the nape of Alexander’s neck. Alexander bit at his lip, toes curling, trying so hard not to be loud. The pressure built fast, Thomas barely giving him any reprieve in his strokes. He barely shifted when Thomas stopped momentarily to add another finger, pushing three up into him.  

He started slowly with the thrusts, pushing in and out gently, curling, pulling at the rim, relaxing him. Alexander was still, stunned, breathing hard every time fingers bumped into his prostrate. He was silent, patient, as Thomas stretched him. Despite how much he liked this part, he wanted to move past it. Want Thomas to hurry up and push into him. Have him bend down onto his elbows and fuck into him. Wanted it hard and unrelenting.

Thomas kept a strong pace until he was satisfied. Alexander sighed when Thomas kissed the back of his neck and pulled his fingers away. Alexander shifted slightly, trying for a more comfortable position. He heard the snap of the lube again, the foil of the condom being torn. Stroked himself a little while he wanted, listening to Thomas move and breath.

Hands found their way onto his hips, one still damp with lube. Alexander was expecting Thomas to push him, bend him down. Stumbled a little when Thomas yanked his hips back.

“Come. Come here, darlin’”

Alexander almost groaned, cheeks colouring. Wanted to scoff and tell Thomas not to call him that. It was a lot more jarring when he was doing this sober.

Alexander followed, shuffling back until Thomas pulled him off the bed. Was confused until Thomas led him over to the dresser, let go of Alexander’s hips to grab his wrists, guide him into pressing his palms flat against it.

Alexander could barely see in the low light, felt ridiculous standing there.

“Really?” He groaned, leaning forward a little at Thomas’s prompting.

Thomas hummed quietly, one hand curled around Alexander’s hip. The other guiding himself in. Alexander felt compliant as Thomas’s cock stretched him, pressing in slow. He felt the moment the head passed his rim, Thomas sliding in easily after that.

Taking it like this was a weird feeling, standing, hands scrabbling against the surface as Thomas gripped his hips tight. He started to thrust slow and shallow, the angle a little off. It gave Alexander a second to adjust, hands curling into fists, cock bobbing with the movements. Thomas was a little taller than him, Alexander could feel their knees bump into each other at the way Thomas bent to thrust his hips.

The slow pull against his rim was satisfying. Alexander hung his head down, arched his back so that he could thrust back, skin slapping together. Thomas made a noise in the back of his throat, fingers tightening before he sped up. He used the hold he had on Alexander to bring him back harder, both of their hips moving to meet each other.

The pace increased, both of them breathing harsh and loud. The angle was hard for him, Thomas not quite reaching his prostate. Alexander brought a hand down to his cock, started pulling himself off slowly, the pressure in his gut burning, simmering. Thomas was opting for hard rather than fast, each thrust loud and almost jarring.

Alexander panted, fist moving faster, listening to the breathy noises that Thomas was making. Never a thing that he really paid attention to when he was drunk, too busy trying to get himself off. He moved a little awkwardly, shuffling so that his feet were further apart. It made it easier to thrust back. He was so aware of every place they touched. Where Thomas’s fingers dug hard into his waist, pulling him back. Where they were connected, the sound of their skin slapping together. Alexander groaned, his fingers tight around his cock.

He was pliant for a while, listening to Thomas moan, letting him lead. There was no stimulation against his prostate but his hand kept up, fist bumping into the dresser every so often. He tried shifting, bending down a little lower, trying to find the angle that worked. His back ached a little.

Thomas groaned, hips slowing down. He let go of Alexander’s hips and brought one hand up to wrap around his chest, the other lying against his stomach. He pulled, guiding Alexander to lean back. Alexander stood straight, felt every breath against his back as Thomas pulled them flush together. Alexander moaned at the contact.

It took a few goes. Thomas thrusting up, Alexander wriggling, trying to find a good spot. He was starting to get sweaty and frustrated. Wanted more than just the friction against his cock, wanted Thomas to stop pausing, stop being so slow. Thomas kept one hand flat against Alexander’s chest, teasing at a nipple. The other batted Alexander’s hand away from his cock, taking over. Alexander still had one hand on the dresser, the other one clutching at the wrist that was jerking him off. It was more work for Thomas. Alexander barely moved, feeling the way Thomas bent a little to thrust into him.

The Thomas _did_ move. Thrusting hard, deep and slow. Alexander’s jaw locked, moaning languidly as Thomas’s cock pressed right into his prostate. The feeling was something akin to relief, the pleasure becoming sharper with both ways Thomas was stimulating him. Alexander felt harsh breathing against the back of his neck, lips pressing there, as Thomas pulled back and a set a pace.

Alexander was breathless, pressure building steadily. Each thrust had him reeling, toes curling onto the floorboards. He let his head fall back onto Thomas’s shoulder, both panting loudly into the quiet of the room. It became slow going; Thomas thrusting hard instead fast, each one making Alexander hum. The hand on his cock helped, Thomas not letting up.

The desire to twist out of his grip, bend forward and move his hips faster was strong. He almost felt like he needed to wriggle, becoming antsy at how agonisingly slow the pressure built. But it felt so good. Especially when Thomas starting mouthing at his scent gland, teeth soft and teasing, kisses wet. Alexander whined, wanted Thomas to bite him again. Hard enough to leave a bruise like last time. Wanted to tease on the idea of Thomas biting too hard, breaking the skin, bonding.

“Oh, fuck, please,” Alexander whispered into the air, voice high. Eyes squeezed shut, orgasm so close. He made an awful noise in the back of his throat when Thomas bit him a little harder. Kept his teeth there while his fist moved faster.

“Yeah, baby, come. Come for me,” Thomas rasped against his ear, voice sounding strained. Alexander moaned, body flushing.

The pressure reached a peak. So close that it was inevitable. So close that he could taste it. Thomas fucked into him hard, squeezed his fingers around the head of Alexander’s cock. Alexander was vaguely aware that he was moaning. Not loud, but in litany, the high making his body feel weightless. Thomas stayed glued to his neck, breathing hard.

When Alexander peaked, coming all over Thomas’s fist, he groaned loudly. Where Thomas bit him, right over his glands, it ached. Knew he didn’t break the skin but it felt close. Alexander almost curled forward, was only being held up because of the arm around his chest. His legs felt weak, all the energy leaving him in the seconds that he crashed over the edge. His ears starting ringing, body tingling the way it always did when he came. Thomas was loud in his ear, groaning when Alexander tightened around his cock. It felt more real than he could ever remember it feeling. More present and pleasurable.

Alexander stilled, eyes blissfully shut, felt relaxed even with the way Thomas was jolting into his body. Thomas was still knocking into his prostate, the stimulation hard and turning unpleasant. Alexander hissed, tried to bear it, brows pulling together in concentration, hands on the dresser.

Thomas came with a hard breath against Alexanders neck. His hips stuttered, and he groaned low, grip tight on Alexander’s hips. Head tilted down, panting, leaning his weight against Alexander as much as he could get away with. Alexander was still breathless himself. Was happy to let Thomas shake, hips moving slowly until they came to a stop.

They both stood there in the afterglow. Thomas with his arms around Alexander’s waist, forehead against his shoulder. Alexander with his head tilted back, one hand still on the dresser, the other clutched around one of Thomas’s wrists. Alexander stood there, trying to catch his breath, not collapse to the ground. His neck throbbed blissfully and the sweat on his skin started to dry and make him shiver.

Alexander sighed, body heavy, tired. Forgot why’d he come here in the first place as Thomas shifted his head up and started pressing kisses into his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is a day late :/ I hope the content and length made up for it.
> 
> I'm tired and don't have much to say. Only that there won't be an update next week as I'm moving back to London and really don't want to think about anything right now.
> 
> On a not-so-completely unrelated note, my gf actually bought me tickets to go see Hamilton West End in January. What the fuck.
> 
> (Thank you for your lovely comments and kudos!!!)


	5. Chapter 5

Angelica had once told him, sometime before his seventeenth birthday, and three years after he’d been placed in the care of the Schuyler’s, that Alexander needed help.

Mentally, she’d said, because something was wrong with him that made him weirdly unemotional in some circumstances.

She’d told him that he needed to see a psychologist. That it wasn’t normal and that he needed to do something about it. Talk about it.

It was true then, when he was on the cusp of seventeen, five years after his mother had died, and he still didn’t know how to express certain aspects of emotions. Alexander had responded unkindly. Thought about holding his mother’s hand as she died and not being able to do anything about it. About a string of foster parents who hardly cared to help him grieve. It was how he’d become stronger. Would carve a place in his chest, someplace close to his heart, where he would stuff all the vulnerability, all the things that made him feel flayed open and unguarded.

Sometimes he’d have to deal with the aftermath of that. His chest feeling tight, too many emotions bursting from that spot, too much to handle. But he’d handle it anyway. However that looked like. He’d cry it out in the safety of isolation if he’d have to. He’d turn it into anger, channel it into his work, let it drive him. The last time Alexander could remember ever feeling so emotionally flayed was waking up in the hospital, Angelica holding his hand, crying. Because he’d thought he’d been so good at hiding his addiction until it had nearly killed him.

 _It’s how I feel better about who I am,_ he’d said. Cried almost two years’ worth of pent-up fear and frustration while Angelica continued to hold his hand.

Now, listening to Thomas breathe behind him, a stray arm wrapped around his waist, Alexander wondered if he’d dug himself too deep into this one.

He’d woken no more than ten minutes ago, feeling worn out and exhausted. The room was barely lit up despite the curtains being wide open. It was still raining. Hard and relentless and dreary against the bedroom window.

Thomas hadn’t moved an inch despite Alexander’s fidgeting. He’d tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position to fall back to sleep in. It had to be early, and even if it wasn’t, Alexander wanted this to last a little longer. He didn’t want to wake Thomas up yet. Didn’t want to get up and deal with things that desperately needed to be dealt with. He just wanted to lay here underneath Thomas’s arm, warm and comfortable and still.

But now his mind was wandering. And he was starting to feel the deep-seated regret and fear that was normally so easy to ignore when he was hungover and basking in the intimacy that he and Thomas would share. He’d felt it take root the previous night when Thomas insisted on pressing kisses to Alexander’s scent glands until he’d had to retreat to the bathroom and shower it off. Stood under the spray with his hands over his face and wondered why having sex with Thomas felt like he was hurtling towards some sort of ultimatum. Why he couldn’t just have incredibly intimate and good sex with someone and not feel like he had to give a certain part of himself. He’d stood under the spray and for a second, barely more, considered how good it might feel to actually do it.

And then he remembered that he was pregnant.

And that the person who always kissed him so lovingly was Thomas Jefferson.

And that Thomas Jefferson only kissed him so lovingly was when it was a prelude to sex.

And Alexander, like Angelica always said he needed to stop doing, subsequently tucked that desire behind his heart and refused to torture himself any more about it.

So now he was here, lying against a warm body, frazzled, annoyed, and regretting every moment that had brought him to this point.

He considered getting up, slipping out from under the covers. Didn’t know where the dryer was but maybe he could find his clothes and leave. He’d come here to do something important, and he’d fucked it up so terribly that Alexander laid there wondering what he was supposed to do now.

Alexander shifted onto his back slowly, twisting under Thomas’s arm, turned his head to look. Thomas was still beside him, breath a little uneven, snoring quietly. He looked different like this, hair mussed, face blank and peaceful. Doing nothing but just being. Alexander wanted to reach over and place a palm on Thomas’s cheek. Feel how warm he was, the stubble, the splotchy skin under his eyes. He wanted to run a thumb down the bridge of Thomas’s nose, press it against his lips, feel how soft and warm they were.

Alexander sighed and shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t gentle about it; swung an elbow into Thomas’s stomach. Not too hard, but enough that Thomas startled a little, breath catching. Didn’t open his eyes but the arm around Alexander’s waist tightened a little, warm hand rubbing his side through his borrowed shirt. Alexander turned away. Didn’t want Thomas to catch him looking. Alexander expected him to move, to say something. To do more than he did, anyway. He almost grumbled when Thomas remained still. Listened for a few minutes as his breathing evened out.

Okay. He couldn’t do this now. As much as he wanted to lay there a fall back asleep, as much as he was exhausted, Alexander felt antsy and anxious. He couldn’t lay here like he wasn’t silently freaking out.

Alexander caught the arm around his waist and pushed, trying to get it off. Thomas grumbled. Alexander turned to watch his brows pull down a little, but he was compliant. Pulled his own arm back until it was lying in the scant inches between them, pressed warmly against Alexander.

Alexander considered letting him lay there. Maybe get up and make some coffee. Splash his face with water and try to calm down. Get dressed, put his shoes on. Leave. Not ever talk to Thomas ever again.

Instead, Alexander elbowed Thomas in the stomach again. Not as hard, but now that Thomas was semi-awake, it had the desired effect. Thomas grunted and pushed at Alexander’s arm, brows creasing as he blinked his eyes open.

“I need my clothes,” Alexander muttered, voice hoarse and sleepy.

Thomas made a raw sound in his throat, a groan, frustrated. He stared at Alexander a few seconds longer, not moving.

“Just…” he murmured, sleepy and quiet. He ignored Alexander; closed his eyes, brought his arm back around Alexander’s waist and squeezed hard.

“Go back to sleep, it’s still raining.”

Alexander frowned, feeling frustration of his own. He sat up and pushed off Thomas’s arm once again. Slipped out from under the covers as quickly as he could. Didn’t turn back, even when Thomas groaned again.

“Alex…” Thomas muttered, tapering off.

“I need my clothes,” Alexander repeated, yawning into his hand as he left the bedroom and Thomas behind. He’d look on his own if he had to.

The lamps were still on in the living room, casting a warm glow against the dreary grey light that barely permeated the windows. Alexander stopped by the kitchen, rubbing at his arms, the room warm around him. He felt out of place standing there. Didn’t quite know what to do. His eyes caught the can of beer still sitting on the kitchen counter, opened and barely full. He shuffled over to the window to watch the rain pelt against the glass.

When Thomas did finally emerge from the down the hall, he was bleary-eyed and frowning. He had a pile of clothes in his arms, Alexander’s coat tucked over his shoulder. He barely glanced at Alexander as he shuffled over to the dining table and set them down.

“Coat’s still a bit damp,” he yawned, hand over his mouth. Alexander watched him, wondering whether Thomas was always like this in the morning.

“Thanks,” Alexander murmured back, rooted to the spot. He fidgeted a little, watching Thomas rub at the stubble on his cheek and open a kitchen cabinet. Pulled out the coffee press and set it down. The rain cut through the silence, but it’s presence was still heavy in the air. He pulled out a chair at the table and sat down, exhaustion and weariness weighing him down. He watched the way Thomas’s back rippled with his movements through his shirt. Watched him set the kettle on, measure the coffee and pour it into the press. His hair was everywhere; a halo around his hair that Alexander wanted to pull back and braid.

“You okay?” Thomas asked, turning his head to look at Alexander while he waited for the kettle.

Alexander blinked the glaze from his eyes a few times and looked away, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Mm,” he murmured, slumping down in his chair. He tried to avoid yawning, but it was fruitless.

“You want me to call you a cab?”

Alexander grimaced. Found a spot just shy of the kitchen sink and stared off into it for a while, completely ignoring everything around him. He leaned his head in his palm, slumped over the table. A mantra ran through his head, a long litany of _sayitsayitsayitsayit._ His breathing was steady but his heart felt like it was two seconds away from beating out of his chest.

“Alexander,” Thomas sighed, although Alexander was trying very hard not to pay attention. “I didn’t think you were actually like this.”

Woah, what? Alexander frowned, gaze flicking over to Thomas, who was leaning back against the stove, arms crossed, brows pulled down. He looked annoyed.

“Like what?” Alexander asked, gearing up to defend himself.

Thomas regarded him for a few seconds. Uncrossed an arm to rub it his face.

“Like _this._ Like, awkward and distant. It’s like you’re allergic to having a conversation with me just because we have sex.”

For almost a second, the quiet litany of words running rampant in his brain was replaced with static silence. Like someone had pulled the plug on a particularly old television. Alexander groaned quietly, laid his head into the crook of his elbow on the table and muttered a hard, “no.”

Thomas’s chuckle was infuriating.

“No? No, what? No need to be embarrassed about it, we’re both grown men.”

That. That right there. That tone. Alexander was so used to that tone. Teasing, but more so it was mocking. Deliberately. He was trying to pull Alexander into an argument.

Alexander kept his face buried and breathed.

“Hey, you know what,” he started, voice high, tone defensive, “it’s too early to have this conversation. So, piss off.”

He didn’t have to look up to see Thomas’s shit-eating grin. The one he always wore when Alexander said something that Thomas could immediately use for ammunition.

There was silence over the sound of the kettle bubbling. Thomas didn’t say anything else. Alexander almost looked up, wanted to gauge his reaction. When the kettle clicked, he listened to the movements around the kitchen, quiet and unfamiliar. It stayed like that for some time. Thomas, pouring hot water into the press, Alexander contemplating and trying to get his thoughts back into order.

“You know,” Thomas sighed, and Alexander shifted to look at him, “if being here makes you uncomfortable, you can just tell me.”

He had to pause mid-way to yawn into his hand. Had his back turned to Alexander. His tone was polite and open. Alexander could hear that he was being sincere.

“If you made me uncomfortable, I wouldn’t be here anyway,” Alexander murmured, head still pillowed against his arm. Didn’t really consider whether that was actually true or not. Thomas turned to regard him for a second.

“Good.”

“Good. Are you done?”

Thomas chuckled and turned back to the press. Pushed the filter down slowly, two mugs ready. Alexander’s eyes flickered over to the window by the table, watching the rain. His thoughts were scattered; he didn’t quite know in which order to reassemble them. His anxiety was starting to turn into frustration. He felt stupid sitting here small talking with Thomas when he had other things to be addressing. He was feeling calmer than last night. Felt more like he was equipped to do this, even though sitting at Thomas’s dining table waiting for coffee was not usually something he encountered.

When Thomas did finally get around to setting down the mugs and pulling a chair out, Alexander felt like he was ready to burst. His fingers fidgeted around his hot mug when Thomas slid it over. Their knees bumped into each other underneath the table.

“Listen – “ Thomas started, leaning forward so that he was invading Alexander’s space just a little.

“I’m pregnant.”

It tumbled out almost without his permission. It was loud and hard, no room for confusion about what’d he just said. Thomas stopped, his brows pulling down a little in confusion. Alexander sat up straight in his chair, his heart in his throat. Forced himself to keep eye contact.

“It’s what… It’s why I came over. I was trying to tell you last night.”

Alexander breathed out as he said it. Could see the hard look on Thomas’s face, but couldn’t not feel relieved even if he’d tried. He sat back a little, feeling better. Feeling okay. He slumped in his chair a little.

Everything turned still, silent. Thomas looked like he barely breathed. He was looking at Alexander like he was trying to solve a puzzle. Brows turned down, lips a thin line. Was silent for a very long time. Alexander started to grow nervous. He remembered Martha saying that Thomas wasn’t likely to be mad, but not that he’d said it, now that Thomas was looking at him, Alexander wondered how that could be true.

“Are you sure?” He asked, tone neutral. No hint to how he was feeling. Alexander fidgeted with his mug.

“Yes,” he murmured, voice considerably small. “I took a test last week. Both of them. I took two. Just… “ He tapered off, was nervous that he’d start rambling. Was nervous anyway, despite how relieved he felt.

Thomas lapsed into silence again. Alexander had to break eye contact. Was more interested to stare at the smooth grainy wood of the table instead. Didn’t want to catch Thomas’s expression morph into anger, even though he felt like it was inevitable anyway.

Alexander felt scattered. Also, didn’t want to face another fact that had been brewing in the back of his thoughts the past week. Didn’t want to feed it.  It whispered to him salaciously. Reminded him that this was Alexander’s problem, not Thomas’s. That there was every chance that Thomas would choose not to be a part of this. That Alexander would be left to do this on his own.

 _I’d be fine,_ he thought bitterly. Tried to fight back. He’d faced mountains on his own before, he could do it again. He had others that would help him.

The scrape of the chair against the hardwood floor was loud and abrupt. It made Alexander jump a little, eyes flickering over to watch Thomas push up from the table. His posture was rigid and tense. He sighed deeply, eyes hard, pointedly not glancing in Alexander’s direction. Alexander watched him walk around the kitchen counter with his mug and set it down. Back turned, stance straight and unmoving. Alexander felt something claw at the back of his throat. When he spoke, his tone was hard.

“I thought you’d be careful.”

Alexander frowned. Had to sit back and force himself to think about what that meant.

“About what? You’re the one that started this.”

He didn’t mean for it to come out sounding so defensive, but Alexander was not willing to take all the blame for this.

Thomas grunted, or chuckled, or somewhere in between those two. Alexander couldn’t figure out which one, but it didn’t sound positive. He turned around slowly, leaned back against the counter, arms folded, much like before. His brows were still furrowed. Alexander could see that he was angry.

“You weren’t taking contraception for it?” His tone turned accusatory. Anger unfurled in Alexander.

“No, I wasn’t,” he said, voice hard. “I didn’t need to. I don’t spend my heats with anyone.”

The look Thomas shot him was incredulous.

“And, what? Did you think nothing was going to happen? You didn’t do anything about it?”

Alexander stood, his own chair scrapping against the floorboards. Chewed the inside of his cheek for a second to quell his anger just a little.

“I’m not stupid, Thomas,” Alexander murmured, tone of voice low. “Don’t talk to me like I am. I did something about it. As soon as I left in the morning. Clearly, it didn’t work.”

Thomas stared at him, his face twisting into frustration. Alexander stared back, hands fisted by his sides. He was itching to move, to do something. Not stand there and watch Thomas come to grips with this. Not stand there and feel like he was the one at fault here.

Thomas looked away eventually, expression changing into something else. Almost blank, but he stared wide-eyed at the floor for a good amount of time. Alexander took a few deep breathes, his body still humming with carefully contained anger, and fisted the pile of his clothes that were still sitting next to him on the table. He needed to go. To put them on and leave. Didn’t want to be here anymore. When Thomas brought up a hand to cover his mouth, murmured an emotional “fuck” into his palm, Alexander moved.

He picked up his clothes and left Thomas standing there. Walked into the bathroom, locked the door behind him. Didn’t quite know how to feel expect relieved because _he’d done it._ Whatever came after this was fine. If Thomas wanted to mope and be mad, it was fine. But he knew. Alexander wasn’t keeping it a secret. Thomas knew and that was all that mattered at the moment.

He got dressed methodically, the fight leaving him slowly. Left his borrow pajamas on the bathroom floor, pulled his shirt over his head slowly. Took his time, stepped into his jeans, sat on the edge of the tub so that he could pull his socks on, sweater after that. Shoes were somewhere. Alexander had to think for a second before he remembered that he’d left them in the ensuite. Barely made a noise as he crept back into Thomas’s bedroom to retrieve them. Grimaced when he felt that they were still wet inside.

His coat was still on the table. He vaguely remembered that he’d left all his stuff in his pockets. Hoped that his phone wasn’t wet. He hadn’t been able to tell the previous night because it had run out of charge on the way over.

When Alexander entered the living room again, he pointedly ignored Thomas still standing in the same spot. Picked up his coat and put it on, zipped it up. Made sure he had everything. It startled him when Thomas spoke.

“How far?” Alexander didn’t know how to describe the tone of Thomas’s voice, but it was quiet.

“I don’t know. Ten weeks?” Or something close to it. He’d have to look at his calendar again, figure out when his heat had actually ended.

“Have you seen a doctor?” Thomas shuffled forward a little, placed his hands on the counter so that it was the only thing separating them.

“Do I need to?” He was aware, vaguely, that yes, he needed to, but he didn’t know when, or what sort of doctor or how to set it up. Seventh-grade sex education hadn’t prepared him for stuff like that.

Thomas sighed, rubbed his brow, and Alexander stood there fidgeting.

“They need to check that everything’s okay. Give you a due date and have a look at the baby.”

Right. A due date. _Fuck._ Thomas was making this sound more real than Alexander was ready for.

He needed a _due date._ So that he could prepare. Buy a cot, some clothes, file for maternity leave from work.

It clawed at Alexander’s throat.

“Okay, I’ll do that stuff later,” he murmured. He passed the kitchen. Made for the hallway down to the door.

Thomas hooked a finger into the collar of his coat to slow him down.

“You don’t think we should talk about this some more?”

Alexander turned to stare at him, fingering his keys in his pocket. Thomas’s tone was low.

“No, there’s nothing else to talk about.”

Thomas frowned at him.

“I disagree.”

 “I don’t give a fuck, Thomas,” Alexander snapped. Could hear the resignation that was in his own tone. Felt the sharp pull of fatigue. Wanted to go home and crawl into bed for a few hours. “I can’t deal with this right now. I need a break. I’ve been stressing about this all week. Ask me after the holidays.”

Thomas looked taken back a little bit. Didn’t say anything more when Alexander left his standing there in the doorway. He shuffled down the hall slowly, emotion clawing at his throat, sudden and stifling. There was something he needed to say so that it was known. So that Thomas knew this wasn’t up for debate. When Thomas followed him down the hall, Alexander regarded him wearily.

“Alexander – “

“I’m keeping it,” Alexander cut him off, voice low. “Whatever you think we need to talk about, it’s not that. It’s non-negotiable. I’m keeping the baby.”

Alexander yanked at the locks, pulling the door wide open. He looked back to watch Thomas face morph into an expression he couldn’t name, before he slipped out and closed the door behind him.

 

Alexander spent the rest of the day in his bed.

Despite being, once again, soaked to the bone when he got home, despite the whole entire morning really, he felt good when he stepped over the threshold. Toed his battered sneakers off, peeled off his socks, retrieved a coat hanger from his closet to hang his coat up in the bathroom, dumped the rest over his clothes into the laundry hamper. Threw on an old pair of gym shorts and a tee shirt while he waited for his laptop to turn on. Felt good, felt light. Or lighter, anyway. Better in the knowledge that it was done, and there was so much more to do, but that he’d done the hard part. He and Thomas still needed to talk, needed to suss out what happened next, but this was fine. Thomas knew, Thanksgiving was coming, and Alexander was happy to spend the holidays ignoring everything and everyone that had anything to do with his predicament.

His phone chimed a few times once he plugged it in and turned it on. All from Thomas, so Alexander turned it face-down and collapsed onto the bed, body exhausted. Settled his laptop into his side and picked one of the series that he hadn’t finished yet. He burrowed under the blankets and set his laptop on the bedside table, volume quiet, subtitles on, so that if he fell asleep, he wouldn’t accidentally push it off.

He let his mind switch off. Got lost the haze of remembering names and places. Was only sort if invested in it. At least when he knew he was going to fall asleep, he had the good sense to turn it off.

When he woke, he had to take a minute to settle. Head fuzzy, limbs lethargic. He picked up his phone and clicked on Thomas’s messages. Was content to delete all of them without reading, but the last message caught him up.

_9:59  
Alexander, please don’t ignore me. I’m not trying to be an asshole. That wasn’t what I wanted you to think. I’d like to talk about this. Like two adults. I’m not prepared to wait until after Thanksgiving. Can we meet or something? Tomorrow? I need to talk about this. We can work it out. Tell me what you want to do. I’m glad you’re keeping it. I want you to. I would never want you to think otherwise. Please?_

Alexander sighed. Rubbed at his face in frustration. No. He didn’t want to meet Thomas. Not tomorrow. Not at all, really. Still needed some time to get his shit together. Still had other people that he had to tell.

He closed out of Thomas’s messages and opened the two that were from John.

_11:11  
Hey asshole laf wants to know what your favourite food is. Like snacks n shit cuz hes too nice for his own good_

_11:19  
Also are you busy today? I need to pick some stuff up so u should come with me_

Alexander chuckled and sat up, fingers moving fast over the screen.

**11:42  
Tell him ill eat anything as long as its not sweet and yeah what time you want to met?**

Alexander threw his phone by his pillow and laid back down. Got comfortably situated under the covers and stared at the ceiling, mind blissfully blank. Was vaguely reminded that he really had to start contemplating what he was going to make for Thanksgiving.

John wasted no time texting him back.

_11:47  
Yeah thats what I said but he doesnt care. Wants specifics. Hes making apple pie. Who does that??? Anyway, 6, cuz I need to grab some beer and some fancy yellow wine apparently_

“I mean, I don’t _know_ what it’s called. He said it, but I don’t drink bloody wine. It’s yellow.”

Alexander set down the bottle of Sauvignon Blanc he’d been inspecting and laughed into his scarf at John’s frustrated tone.

He was standing next to John at Walmart two blocks from his and Hercules apartment. Right in the middle of the refrigerated wine aisle, where they’d been perusing for a good twenty minutes. The only reason Alexander wasn’t annoyed was because of John’s hilarious running commentary about wine that he was convinced didn’t actually exist.

It was getting funnier the longer it went on. Especially as Alexander continued to feed into John’s frustration.

“Is it from Chile? Chilean wine is usually good.”

John whipped around to glare at him, and Alexander had to duck his head down to hide his smile.

“Shut the fuck up, Alexander. Does it look like they’re sorted into regions? I am so close to slapping you.”

Alexander chuckled. John whipped back around, eyes scanning over shelves of coloured labels, picking at any that looked even remotely close to the colour he was looking for. Alexander watched him go. Back bent, face screwed up in concentration. He had his phone in one hand, waiting for Lafayette to get back to him about the name. His hair was down, pulled back and partly tucked under his beanie. No scarf, but his coat was new. Wool, looked thick, a nice light grey colour, long enough to almost reach his knees. Alexander didn’t know shit about designer fashion, but it was shiny and nice and definitely not something that he’d picked up at a dollar store. John wasn’t the type to splurge on things he didn’t need. Alexander wondered briefly if Lafayette had bought it for him.

“Are you sure it’s a white wine?” Alexander asked thoughtfully. They weren’t making any headway with this since John had forgotten the brand name.

John straightened, eyes still glued to the glass doors.

“Does it matter?”

“If it’s red, yes. Red wine isn’t chilled. You’re supposed to drink it at room temperature. It won’t be here.”

John almost didn’t move. Kept scanning over the names, pointedly ignoring Alexander. It was almost comical in the way his head finally whipper around, his face twisted into a scowl.

“Wait, it doesn’t go in the fridge. The fuck? Why?”

Alexander shrugged, starting to feel slightly irritated.

“I don’t know. I think it’s supposed to be classy.”

John groaned, expression falling. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat.

“Where’s the aisle then? Laf’s classy as fuck.”

He said it with so much conviction and resignation that Alexander had to stop because he laughed so hard. Had to agree a little, only with how little he knew about Lafayette. But he _was_ French.

John paid him no mind. Moved on, hands still grudgingly shoved in his pockets, shoulders hunched. Alexander followed without much preamble.

They did eventually find it, no thanks to Lafayette or Alexander. Halfway up the aisle where John was stooped down until he reached and pulled out a bottle. Alexander caught the last half of him mumbling to himself, something along the lines of, “oh, this one. I remember this”. Was too busy lost in his own head until John held it up in the air with a huge grin on his face.

Alexander held the beer and the basket of snacks as they trudged up to the checkout. John was holding the bottle up to his face, squinting at the curly writing. He started talking at it, murmuring quietly. A thing that John did a lot, so Alexander barely paid any mind. Only half listened to John trying to pronounce the name.

“This was the same one we had on our picnic. In that park that Monet painted. Tasted like shit but I didn’t want to tell him.”

Alexander swivelled his head around to frown at John. Was sure, since John was glaring at the self-checkout machine and not him, that he was still addressing himself. He set the basket down, let John pay for everything, brows pulled down in confusion. Waited until they were out into the cold air to voice his confusion out loud.

“You went on a fucking picnic?”

John looked up from his phone, shopping bag in the other hand.

“What?”

“Lafayette took you on a picnic?” He tried not to laugh. What a picture that made in his head. John and Lafayette sitting in some woodsy, overgrown park. Drinking wine and kissing.

John flushed a little, his face twisting up.

“Ah, yes. Is that okay?”

Alexander chuckled. John’s tone suggested he was trying to be casual about it, but Alexander was determined to embarrass him just a little bit.

“John Laurens. The formidable John Laurens on a picnic. Did he bring his little chequered blanket and play you some classical music?”

John’s casual expression dropped, shifting into annoyance. He swung his elbow out wide, catching Alexander in the ribs and cutting off his chuckle.

“Shut the fuck up, asshole.”

He turned away, ignoring Alexander’s breathless laughter. Stuck his nose back to his phone with his brows pulled down into a frown. Alexander nudged him with a shoulder.

“Relax, I’m joking. He seems like the real romantic type. Was that in Paris? I don’t know shit about when this all happened.”

He meant it to be sincere. John didn’t look at him, his lips thinned. Alexander side-eyed him. Hunched shoulders, the heavy frown, the way his fingers fidgeted against his phone. Alexander backtracked a little. Was John mad?

“Mate, you good? I was seriously joking. I don’t care if you guys went on a picnic. Whatever.”

But John was a pillar of silence. Both of them trudging along, Alexander’s body turned slightly in John’s direction. John ignoring him, eyes ahead, phone and hands now shoved into his pockets. Alexander said nothing, waiting.

The wind whipped around them. Cold and damp, rain still for a while, but the heavy clouds suggested they’d make a return very soon. Alexander wanted to be inside. Wasn’t always so bothered by the cold, but he had his coat and sweater and he still felt it in his chest. Had his warm boots on, with two pairs of socks, so at least his toes weren’t cold, which was the absolute worst, but he’d left his gloves at home again, and no amount of rubbing them together was going to fix that.

John was silent for so long that Alexander got a little worried. It was a five-minute walk back, at the most. John spent most it staring ahead, eyes weirdly glazed, ignoring everything around him. Alexander frowned, trying to figure out what he’d said wrong. John got strangely defensive about certain things sometimes. Things that not even Alexander could find the fault in. Was good at ignoring everyone and moping. He’d gotten better at talking about it, and Alexander learnt to understand that John was better at showing how he felt rather than talking about it. But Alexander felt at a loss. Was the picnic an important thing to John? And Alexander had just trodden on it like it was nothing? That hadn’t been his intention. John was nearly always so against those sorts of outings. Said they were lame and for people who were in love and didn’t have shit to worry about.

Alexander stood patiently while John dug around in his pocket for his key. Hurried out of the cold after him when John held the door open for him. He shivered in the warm air, arms crossed over his chest. He was making his way towards the elevator. Almost jumped when John grabbed his sleeve and held tight. Pulled back so Alexander had to stop. Alexander turned to look at him. Took in his flushed face and slight frown. Not angry; pensive. He was trying to find words. Alexander stood next to him, close, and waited.

“Don’t laugh,” John sighed, fingers still fisted into Alexander’s coat, twisting. Alexander felt a little bit guilty.

“John, I didn’t mean – “

“Not about that. I don’t care about the picnic thing. I just – About what I’m about to tell you. You can’t tell anyone.”

The look he gave Alexander was almost pleading. Alexander frowned, slightly worried. Had never seen that look on John’s face before. Not at such an intensity.

“Absolutely,” Alexander murmured, smiling. Zoned in on John chewing his lip just a tiny bit. An old habit. Something he rarely did now. He used to do it when he was upset and trying not to show it.

John breathed out slowly.

“I know it’s weird to you. It’s weird to me too. Weirder. Laf’s not really my type if I can even say that. We’re completely different. He’s so much better than me. Deals with his problems better. He’s not a mess like I am. He cares about how he looks and he wears expensive shit and doesn’t care what other people say about him –“  John cut himself off, pulled his hand back and chewed at his lip a little more, eyes directed at the ground.

“He’s rich, has this really nice apartment and you can see the Notre Dame from it and he works at the fucking Louvre. I know I’m just spouting shit but I have to tell you this stuff because it’s everything I imagine a successful person has. Like, he’s got all these amazing and interesting friends and he travels a lot and loves art. And – “

Alexander’s heart hurt. John’s voice was breaking, his head cast down so that his face was barely visible, but Alexander could hear the tears in his tone. In the way he was sucking in big breaths to hold it down. John rarely cried. Prided himself on being so resilient. Thought crying was closer to a weakness. Alexander felt like he was looking at a man who’d held his tears in for too long.

“– We met because he saw me drawing and he loved it, and I kind of hated him a little at first. I only hung around because he bought me drinks. I thought we’d just have sex and move on.”

His voice was getting harder and harder to hear through his tears. The scratchiness of his tone getting rougher until John brought both hands up to cover his face, and _sobbed._ Cried so loud that it echoed off the walls a little. Alexander had to clench his jaw, reached out and fisted John’s coat, reeling him in until John’s head bumped into Alexander’s chest.

“Jesus, John.”

He let John shove his face into his scarf. Brought both arms around to hold them close together. Pushed a hand under the mess of hair at the back of John’s neck and scratched at the skin there. Shook with the intensity of John’s cries. Tried not to be so freaked out. How many years had it been since he’d seen John cry like this?

“I’m sorry,” John tried, voice muffled by Alexander's neck. “Fuck, I didn’t realise it got to me so much. I can’t figure it out, Alexander. Why he likes me so much. I’m an asshole and I’m boring. And he likes me. God, what a fucking idiot. I can’t believe I did this to myself.”

Alexander let him talk. Wanted to object, tell John that he wasn’t boring, that he deserved Lafayette just as much as he wanted him. That just because two people were very different, didn’t mean that they were _too_ different. But he knew that sometimes John just needed to get it all out. Needed some time to feel shitty before he could let anyone tell him otherwise.

John stayed quiet for some time. Let himself be held while he got the most of his tears out. It didn’t last too long anyway. He sobbed his way through most of it. Only pulled back when it was easy enough to talk through the tears. The light in the foyer was faint and dirty, but Alexander could see how red John’s face was, his eyes puffy and glassy. He dropped his hands but stayed close enough that John kept his fingers tangled in the buttons of his coat. John cleared his throat a few times, opened his mouth, chewed at his lip. Alexander waited.

“I thought you’d be mad at me or something,” John sighed, gaze somewhere near Alexander’s shoulder.  “About not really knowing who Lafayette was or, like, anything about him. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t think it would be long before Laf realised how boring I was.”

Alexander reached up and squeezed John’s hand, understanding.

“I’m not mad, John. I was never mad.”

John looked up and gave him a watery smile. Turn his hand around and thread their fingers together against Alexander’s chest. He squeezed hard before pulling away. Brought a hand up to rub under his eyes. Alexander smiled when John puffed out a short, unamused laugh.

“Shit, Alex, I think I love him. Fuck me, I don’t even know. I’ve never been in love before but I’m pretty sure it feels like this.”

He rubbed his face a little more, voice less rough. Alexander felt something stir in his chest. Something big and fervent that erupted from under his ribs and made him want to pull John back. Press a kiss to the side of his face and tell him how much Alexander loved him. How much John deserved the entire world and everything he wished for and to be loved by someone. Alexander was struck by how difficult it became to tame the love he felt for John. John who was sniffling, face wet, red, twisted up. John who would get weird in a day or two or until he got over the fact that he’d just unloaded so vigorously over Alexander, but would ultimately feel better about it. And Alexander would trudge through it and let him be weird, always, always be proud of John when he finally worked up the courage to say thank you.

 

Lafayette and Hercules were otherwise preoccupied when John finally unlocked the door and let themselves both in.

Lafayette was sitting on the couch with his legs crossed. Glasses on, squinting as he concentrated, game controller in both hands. He was dressed casually; maroon tee shirt and black jeans, hair pulled up. Alexander thought he still looked too fucking attractive for his own good.

Hercules had taken to sitting on the rug, behind the coffee table. Big smile, flannel shirt, sweatpants. Posture relaxed, and Alexander didn’t have to look at the television to know that Lafayette was getting his ass beat.

“A.Ham!” Hercules hollered, eyes momentarily flickering over to him once John had shut the door behind them. Alexander grinned, shrugged his coat off and stuck it over one of the hooks by the door. John slipped past him with the plastic bag, ignoring all of them as he disappeared into the kitchen.

“Getting your ass kicked, Herc?” Alexander laughed. He toed his shoes off and collapsed onto the other end of the couch, a comfortable space between him and Lafayette.

Hercules laughed, while Lafayette grumbled, still squinting at the screen. Tekken was flashing on the screen, a flurry of activity where Alexander could see a Devil Jin quite literally beating the fuck out of an Anna Williams.

“Grab me some orange juice, Johnny?” Alexander called, settling in on the other side of the couch, enough space for John to fit into the middle. He laughed as Lafayette cussed, throwing his controller down between them, round over.

“Perhaps you are better at this ridiculous game than I am, my friend. I’d like to see Hercules taken down a notch.”

John’s laughter rang loud from the kitchen. Alexander grinned and picked the remote up, fiddling with it.

“Yeah man, someone take me down a notch,” Hercules grumbled, all over the top and sarcastic. “I’m getting bored with all this winning.”

“You want a beer, ‘Lex?” John called, a half full wine glass in one hand and a beer bottle in the other.

“Orange juice,” Alexander muttered, eyes on the screen, his Lili against Hercules’s Devil Jin. Sometimes, if he was especially on his game, he could kick ass. Most times not, though.

“Here’s a question,” Lafayette started, John setting Alexander’s drink on the table and settling between them, “if Hercules always beats everyone, why bother playing this game?”

He accepted the glass of wine that was passed over and pressed a kiss to John’s hair. Alexander was barely paying attention until he got a face full of “K.O.” flashing across the screen. Lili in a heap on the ground.

“Easy,” Alexander sighed, reaching for his glass, tossing the controller as far away from him as he could, “if we didn’t let him play this game, he’d never win at any of them.”

It was almost comical, the way Hercules perked up, head swivelling around to shoot Alexander a scathing look. Alexander grinned into his glass.

“Dude,” he started, reaching out and pinching Alexander on the ankle. Alexander flinched back and kicked his foot out, catching Hercules on the shoulder. “Shut the fuck up, you’re drinking orange juice on a Saturday night.”

Lame, Alexander thought.

“Dude, stop deflecting. You suck at everything,” he shot back.

Hercules shot the three of them unimpressed looks, John and Alexander laughing.

Lafayette made them put on Mario Cart next, while John shuffled off to grab the platter of nachos he had in the oven. Alexander was content to sit through it, mainly because this was one of the only games where he could beat anyone. Most importantly, John, who liked to slyly rub in that he was usually the victor. He barely questioned it when Alexander emerged back out of the kitchen sometime later with another glass of orange juice. Was thankful when John didn’t break out the weed just because he wasn’t sure that he could come up with an acceptable excuse for that one.

When the night did finally close, Alexander’s head barely hit the couch cushion before he fell into is dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back on track! Happy Thanksgiving, I didn't edit this!!!


	6. Chapter 6

Alexander met up with the girls while they were standing on the pavement next to Angelica’s Mercedes.

Eliza and Peggy were standing close to each other, heads bowed over something that Alexander guessed was one of their phones. They were chatting animatedly, Eliza gesticulating while Peggy stood with her arms crossed, a smile on her face. The sun was out, the wind nothing more than a soft breeze, but they were both bundled up in scarfs and beanies. As he approached, he caught sight of Angelica bent down at the back of the car, the boot door up while she fiddled with something.  She had a suitcase standing upright beside her.

“Are you serious?” Alexander called, humoured, his backpack light over his shoulder.

All three girls turned to look at him. Angelica’s brows were pulled down into a deep frown.

“Hi, darling,” Peggy murmured sweetly, pulling him into a one-armed hug. Alexander gave her a squeeze but otherwise opted to raise an eyebrow at Angelica.

“You need a suitcase? We’re going for five days.”

Angelica’s face grew grim. She stood tall, arms crossed, looking a little frazzled. All business. Alexander almost felt the urge to flee for his life.

Eliza rolled her eyes.

“We’re girls, Alex. Can you shut up? Please? You’re late,” She said, breezing past to open up the backseat door.

“By a whole goddamn hour,” Angelica cut in, still and unmoving. “What the fuck, Alexander? Mum’s already annoyed that we haven’t left. She wants us for lunch.”

Eek, okay. The last thing Alexander wanted to do was piss off Catherine Schuyler.

“Sorry,” he muttered, shouldering off his backpack and placing it in Angelica’s waiting hand. It wasn’t all that heavy. A few days’ worth of clothes, and his laptop taking up most of the space. “Slept in, forgot to set my alarm.”

Angelica snatched it away and shoved it into the back of the car a little vigorously. Opted to ignore him while she picked up the suitcase and placed it in the boot as well. Eliza sat in the backseat, door closed, still messing around with her phone. Peggy bumped into his shoulder as she passed, walking around the car.

“I’ve got shotgun, get in, Alex,” she muttered, giving Lex a coy grin. Lex frowned.

“Wait, I thought we were going to coin toss? We always coin toss,” he said, a little incredulous. Angelica elbowed him gently.

“We did,” Peggy called from the other side, disregarding him as she climbed in. “You were late, you missed out.”

Angelica laughed at Alexander’s downtrodden expression. Eliza looked up from her phone to knock on the window and shoot both of them a confused look. Alexander sighed and turned to make his way to the other side of the car.

He hooked his fingers underneath the handle before he turned to Angelica, grinning.

“I could drive if you like?” He asked, a joke that he almost forgot to make. A joke that he made every year because of how protective Angelica was of her car

Angelica loosened her scarf, unbuttoning her coat and shrugging it off. She shot Alex an unamused look.

“In your condition?” She scoffed, pulling open the door and climbing in. Alex laughed, almost offered, before Eliza knocked on the glass again.

* * *

 The drive from Manhattan to Albany took barely more than two and a half hours because of how dedicated Angelica got once they’d hit the freeway.

It went by in a blur for Alexander. Peggy ended up drifting off in the front seat and Eliza made it apparent that she didn’t want to talk to anyone by the way she put her headphones on and leaned her head against the window. Angelica, probably just to annoy all of them, put on her classical bullshit while she squinted at the road and gave everyone one-word answers every time someone asked her something.

So, it was that kind of trip. Angelica was in a mood and everyone else was tired and Alexander spent most of the trip texting back and forth with John about Lafayette and what kind of cat they would get, and other nonsensical shit that Alexander forgot about the second that they pulled into the Schuyler’s driveway.

Catherine and Phillip’s house looked more like a mansion to Alexander. Dark brick, a few sprawling acres of land. A rose garden that Catherine liked to tend to, a pond that Angelica had pushed him into two weeks after they’d met. He could remember the first time he’d ever set foot it in. Scrawny and angry and in awe because it had been the biggest place he’d certainly ever gone to live in. Trees that lined the gravel drive and disappeared around the house. A whole bunch of them that Alexander didn’t know the name of but loved anyway. Had felt like he was stepping into a forest the first time he’d ever wandered the grounds. Alexander had a love for this place that he’d never been able to find anywhere else. The first place he’d ever felt like he had a family after his mother.

Peggy started to stir the moment the car crawled up the rocky driveway. Alexander shoved his phone into his pocket, frustrated at the message he’d been drafting to Carlos for the last fifteen minutes. Angelica turned her music down, parked the car on the spot on the left side of the house. Eliza seemed reluctant to move. Looked like she was half asleep against the window. Alexander had to give her a few shoves before she shoved him back and sat upright.  

“I feel like a zombie,” she muttered, slipping her headphones around her neck and pushing the door open. Alexander hummed in agreement. Almost couldn’t quite place the sluggishness that he was feeling until he remembered that, yes, he actually could because he was pregnant.

No one seemed bothered to worry about the luggage as soon as the front door opened, and Catherine appeared at the top of the stairs.

She wore a dress made of a heavy green material that fluttered past her knees, her greying hair done down along her shoulder in a single plait. Her eyes crinkled when she smiled. The last time Alexander had seen her was Christmas the year before.

“Mum!” Eliza called, setting down her bag to fold into her mother’s arms. Catherine’s smile widened, Half her face disappearing into Eliza’s shoulder.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she said warmly, rubbing a hand up and down Eliza’s back. Alexander grinned and followed in step with Peggy, who seemed to be waiting for a hug of her own.

Catherine and Eliza pulled back from each other, “I hope the trip wasn’t too boring for you. Thank you for coming.”

Peggy laughed when Catherine hugged her. “Mum, we always come.”

“Yes, darling, but it must be very tempting to spend Thanksgiving and Christmas with Andrew. I’m waiting for the day that Angelica decides she wants to spend her holidays with her husband.”

Catherine’s tone was light and teasing. Alexander laughed, exhaustion seemingly forgotten, as Angelica dumped her suitcase on the gravel and scoffed.

“The day John cares about Christmas or Thanksgiving the day the world ends,” she murmured shortly.

Peggy pulled back with a kiss on Catherine’s cheek, and the smile that he got from her as she opened her arms to him made him feel warm and fuzzy. It was a feeling he knew only from her. A relationship that had always been rocky and emotionally challenging, but Alexander loved her liked he’d never loved his mother. A piece of his heart that he only had for her.

“Oh, my dear, you need a haircut,” Catherine murmured softly, folding Alexander into her arms. She was slightly shorter than him, so he had to bend down. Laughed as he curled his arms around her waist, smiling at the kiss she pressed to his cheek. Her arms were warm and tight around him. They hugged for no more than a few seconds, but it made Alexander feel good.

“I did,” Alexander laughed into her hair. Pulled back and accepted his backpack that Angelica held out to him. Catherine raised her eyebrows and shot her a faux serious expression.

“It doesn’t look any different.”

Eliza chuckled and bumped into his shoulder as she passed, her suitcase crunching in the gravel behind her. “Dad home?” She asked, shooting a look at her mother.

Catherine pulled Angelica into her arms. “Yes, sweetheart, let’s get out of the cold. Phillip’s in the kitchen finishing lunch.”

Alexander smiled, hitched his backpack further on his shoulder and followed the ladies inside.

* * *

 The Schuyler residence, even after all the years that he’d spent in it, felt like a castle that Alexander would never get to fully explore.

He had very distinct memories of the first few weeks he’d stayed. Had been impressed the moment Phillip took his suitcase from the car and led him inside. The dark floorboards, the plush curtains, rich with colour, the way it matched the carpet and some of the furniture. Low ceilings, light fixtures that sparkled, intricately designed wallpaper. A library that stole Alexander’s breath away. Always filled with music or the loud chatter of human activity. A home that he’d always considered gaudy and unnecessarily expensive, but a place that he’d always considered his home anyway.

The dining room was one of the largest rooms on the first floor, second only to the living room. It was joined to the kitchen, where, as soon as they stepped into the foyer, Alexander was hit with the scent of something rich and spicy and delicious.

At Catherine’s request, he and the girls left their luggage by the front room, their shoes and coats tucked away in the closet. Catherine stood in the doorway and called out to her husband.

“You must be hungry from the trip. Phillip’s made something exceptional,” she said jovially, arms tucking around her middle. Stood tall and proud and looking regal and like something out of a 16th-century oil painting.

“I sure as hell am,” Eliza groaned, all four of them following their mother into the dining room. “Alexander kept us waiting, so Angelica wouldn’t pull over for some fast food.”

Alexander side-eyed her an annoyed look. He felt famished, honestly.

Catherine had a smile on her face, looked ready to make a teasing comment, probably about how Alexander had a habit of keeping people waiting, when Phillip rounded the corner with his glasses on and his fingers clasped a thick, open book.

He looked good, Alexander noted. Hair still as dark as ever, skin crinkling heavy when he smiled. Wearing an ugly striped sweater that looked like something Eliza might gift someone just for the laughs. Phillip, just like Catherine, and probably just habit that he’d picked up from his years in the military, stood tall and proud.

Phillip’s hugs always came in abundance. He came forward to pour kisses over the girls’ face, ruffled Alexanders hair as Phillip pulled him close. Let Catherine mark his book and put it away so that they could all wash up for lunch.

Alexander slipped into the bathroom first. Washed his hands, rubbed at his face, feeling more awake now. Feeling happy, if anything. Had been almost a year since he’d been here, eating Phillip’s food, waking up to Catherine playing the piano in the sitting room, playing with the dog. It was like a vacation, and he missed it every time.

Peggy and Eliza refused to budge as they indulged their father and his never-ending string of questions. Catherine looked as if she was starting to get impatient. She wore her annoyance plain on her face, her brows stitching together. Was not bothered with letting anyone know how she really felt. She was impatient in ushering the two girls to the bathroom, respectively. Touched Alexander’s shoulder affectionately as he passed.

Angelica was already sitting at the table, fingers tapping slowly over the screen of her phone. She was in her spot. The chair she’d always, always sit in, her back to the entryway of the dining room. Hair pulled up into a knot, jacket hanging over the back of her seat. Alexander almost snorted. Almost laughed and told her to go hang her jacket in the closest, because if he didn’t say anything, Catherine would.

Alexander’s own spot was on the other side of the table, next to Catherine, opposite where Peggy would sit. It was a large surface, took up quite a lot of space in the room. Six dark wood chairs on each side, the ends free. Miles of space across. Alexander couldn’t fathom the need for a dining table that seated twelve people. Definitely didn’t have that many friends that he was close enough with to invite over for dinner. He had fond memories of spreading his books out on this table. Sheaves of paper, pencils, study notes. Would sit down before dinner and listen to whoever was cooking. Get lost in the static of constant clanging and moving. Give Catherine an apologetic smile when she’d walk in the room and give him a disdainful look. Mutter something about Alexander having a perfectly fine desk in his own room. Would never actually kick him out though.

By the time everyone managed to get seated for lunch, Alexander was starving. Catherine had set the table prior, refused to dish anything out until phones were in the kitchen drawer, their designated area, and Angelica’s jacket was safely tucked away in the closet. Phillip bickered with the girls. Catherine casted fugitive looks over the table at Peggy as she spoke about Andrew and their talk of finding a nicer place to live. Alexander helped her serve, stomach growling at the pasta sauce he passed along the table. He was silent while they got settled. Was happy to listen to Phillip talk about a holiday in Europe that was in the making, their upcoming anniversary.

Alexander settled into his seat and let Phillip riddle him with questions about work. This was one of the only part that he felt never changed. Meals in the Schuyler residence with always filled with chatter, clanging cutlery, laughter, and it was comfortable and warm. Alexander just wished that he had more to say. Wish his life didn’t just consist of work and what little he had to say about his friend's lives.

There was a point, in between Eliza laughing about something, and Alexander licking the pasta sauce off his spoon, that Catherine gave him _that_ look, and asked him if he’d found someone yet. She sounded like she was joking, and Alexander was half ready to believe she was, considering how timeless that question had become.

Only, this time, Angelica had the gall to smile slyly into her hand across the table.

He told her no in much in the same way he always did, only, he was hit with the tiniest sense of guilt knowing that he was slightly lying. Wasn’t prepared to tell two people that were practically his parents that he was having a baby with someone who wasn’t even close to his mate. Couldn’t fathom how disappointed they would be. Catherine and Phillip had always been so conservative in that way. The marriage before children thing.

Alexander let Catherin tut at him. Laughed at Eliza’s “still searching for Alexander’s soulmate, while Alexander actively refuses to participate” comment. Ignored the way Angelica kept shooting him blank looks. It was a relief when Catherine asked him and Peggy to clear the dishes.

Catherine got up from the table to dish out the crème brulee while they were at it. Passed them in the kitchen and smoothed her hands over Peggy’s back while she was sorting the forks from the spoons.

“Alexander, give me a hand, darling?” She asked, prompting Alexander to set down the line on plates he was putting into the rack.

Catherine opened the fridge and set down the dish of dessert. Asked Alexander to fetch the bowls from one of the cupboards. Used a knife to cut everything into servable pieces. Alexander went along with it, conversation non-existent. Passed over the bowls, dug in the kitchen drawer to fetch the dessert spoons. Waited patiently.

When Peggy was done, shut the dishwasher door and washed her hands in the sink, she gave Alexander a soft smile before she left them to it. Retreated back to the table where Angelica and Phillip were chatting.

Catherine was quiet for almost a minute.

“Things have been good?” She asked, pausing as Alexander handed her a bowl. She looked at him, her expression blank, no pretence. Never any pretence, but at least she wasn’t so blunt this time.

“I’ve been good. Really good,” he paused, considered how honest and open he wanted to be. Didn’t really want to be having this conversation in the kitchen while the rest of the family were waiting for them.

Catherine stayed quiet for a few seconds, gaze flickering over his face. He’d been sleeping really well lately, eating okay since the nausea had started to subside. So at least he didn’t _look_ like he was taking drugs.

“Eliza says you’ve been working quite a bit lately. She was worried.”

It was just a statement. No sign of worry as Catherine loaded up the last bowl and set the serving soon down on the counter. Conversation as good as dropped, but Alexander frowned anyway, more than a little annoyed that Eliza sometimes didn’t know when to chill out and stay out of his business.  

“I have, a bit,” he muttered, tucking one of the dishes into his elbow so that he could pick up two others. “I’ve been meaning to slow.”

Catherine gave him a soft smile. Put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“I’m proud of you.”

The words hit him so unexpectedly that Alexander had to stop for half a second. Catherine ignored him, turned away to put the dish back into the fridge. The words sounded like an extension to the conversation they’d just been having. A thing that Catherine had decided to tack onto the end, but she was always so meticulous with her words.

When was the last time she’d said that to him?

When was the last time she used her words instead of her actions to convey her affection towards him?

Catherine was not a woman of few words, but she was a woman who chose her words carefully. Never spoke more than she had to, was never frivolous in conversation. When Catherine said things like that, Alexander knew she meant them.

She picked up two of the bowls and left Alexander standing there in the kitchen. He had to smile for a second, steady the bowls in his arms before he made his way back out, heart full, happy.

At home.

* * *

 Conversation started to lag sometime around four. Catherine excusing herself to prepare for a doctor’s appointment and Phillip looking like he was in need of an extended nap. Still recovering from the open-heart surgery he’d undergone only two months prior.

They all helped with the clean up, fussed about while discussing what they were going to make for dinner. Seven years since Alexander had moved out, and they all still kept to the same cooking schedule. He collected his bag when they were done, helped Peggy drag her stuff upstairs. Made their way along the landing until they stopped outside her room. Alexander left her there, wanted to put his stuff down before he did anything else.

Alexander had the next room over, his window facing out towards the back gardens. He shuffled in and set his bag down by the desk, groaned as he crawled up the neatly made bed and collapsed face first. Took in the smell of detergent, same one that had always been used.

Everything about this room was the same. Had been the same since he moved in. The covers always a certain shade of grey, the sort that matched the curtains. The window sill lined with a flourish of indoor plants, dark wood furniture, a star chart that he’d painted still hanging on the wall over the bed. He’d taken most of his stuff when he’d left, but there were still certain things littered around the room that were his. The lamp he’d bought at a thrift shop, the tiny dark blue loveseat he’d bought brand new, the bookshelf still stacked with a few university textbooks and novels he hadn’t particularly enjoyed. Still his, as Catherine and Phillip had said when he’d moved to New York City for university, the room not entirely empty like it was now. There’d been a brief time before school and work that Alexander had moved back here. Too expensive to live in the city without a job, and it was never going to be easy or quick to find the one he wanted. Only Peggy had still lived there then, and it had been a blissful time for the remainder of that year.

Alexander burrowed into the pillow, his body turning lethargic over the soft surface. He let his eyes flutter shut, body heavy. Barely realised how exhausted he was, but by then he was happy to let his mind drift off.

* * *

 “This is the spot,” Angelica laughed quietly, hand over her mouth.

It was just the two of them piled into their winter gear, shoulders bumping together for the warmth. They’d left the safety of the house for something to do. Had spent most of the day watching movies while trying to block out Peggy’s insistent commentary. Had decided to leave the other two Schuyler sisters at home and go on an adventure, despite the chilly air.

It was getting colder, fast.

Angelica was standing by the lake edge in Washington park. There were trees dotted here and there, empty flowerbeds, yellowing grass. Empty, as far as Alexander could see.

Alexander smiled and stared out over the calm surface of the water. “Wild,” he muttered, trying to picture it.

Just the two of them, sometime in Summer. A month that Alexander couldn’t remember, but they’d both been on break, still in high school, before Alexander had gotten into the harder stuff. Angelica pulling him along by his sleeve, dark, late, grin on her face. She’d pulled two joints from her pocket, proud look on her face. Alexander had sputtered, laughed, both of them fearfully elated.

“Remember when you threw up?” Angelica asked with a little chuckled, mouth still tucked behind her gloved hand. Her other was tucked into the crook of his elbow.

Alexander groaned, remembered vividly. The second he’d doubled over, overwhelmed, realising that it had been too much. Angelica laughing at him as he’d expelled the contents of his stomach into some poor, unsuspecting bush.

Not a moment he was proud of.

“You think I’d forget? I think I nearly died when Catherine almost caught us.”

Angelica huffed, squeezing his arm.

That was putting it lightly. They’d both snuck back in through the back door. Had to race upstairs while Catherine had puttered about in the kitchen. He’d beaten Angelica to the shower, desperate to wash the smell off.

If Alexander was honest, it was probably one of the only times they’d bonded over something, before they’d both graduated school.

Unfortunately.

Alexander didn’t know what he’d do without her.

Angelica pulled at his arm again, leading them back to the path. It was cold, and Alexander wanted to get in the shower, feel his toes a little more. Angelica’s pace was slow, almost dragging him back. She was obviously a lot less in a rush.

Alexander caught her side-eyed glance.

“Are you going to tell them?” She asked, and Alexander sighed.

“Them?” He asked, expecting a “have you told him’, rather.

“Mum and dad.”

Oh. Right, yeah. He hadn’t gotten around to thinking about that quite yet.

“You’ll be coming up from Christmas. They’ll notice by then.”

“I hadn’t really thought out it,” Alexander muttered, brows pulled down. Another thing to chew at his patience.

Something stabbed at him. It felt a little like disappointed. They weren’t going to be thrilled.

“Yeah,” Angelica sighed, drawing the word out. The traffic along the road was scarce. Alexander held her arm tight and quelled his anxiety.

They’d hadn’t been walking for long. Too cold to really go any further, but it was already getting dark. Up the front lawn, the key in Alexander’s pocket. The light glowing from the windows looked warm and inviting.

Angelica slowed just a little. “So, Thomas…” She drawled, a question in her tone.

Alexander laughed. They hadn’t really had the chance to talk about it.

“I told him,” Alexander muttered, and almost laughed at the way Angelica whipped he head around to look at him.

“Ah.” She paused. “And?”

Thomas hadn’t sent him a single message after Alexander had left the city, and Alexander still didn’t know how to really reply back.

“Well,” he murmured, stopping by the front door, keys jangling in his coat pocket. “He was kind of mad. Honestly, I didn’t really stick around.”

He laughed, catching Angelica’s eye. Her face was blank.

“So you didn’t talk about it?” She asked. Her tone was almost sharp. If Alexander groaned at her serious expression, she’d probably slap him, pregnant or not.

“There was nothing to talk about.”

Angelica mouth pulled up into a grimace. “That’s probably not true,” she sighed, but shrugged and motioned for him to unlock the door.

The warmth in the first room was a stark difference to that of outside. Alexander and Angelica pulled their respective winter gear off. slipped out of their shoes and lined them up in the closet.

Even from down the hall, Alexander could smell something rich and garlicy coming from the kitchen. Squeezed Angelica’s arm and made his way down, socked feet against the shiny floorboards. He was expecting either Catherine or Phillip standing in front of the stove, or chopping vegetables on the counter. When he rounded the corner, instead, he caught Peggy and Eliza sitting next to each other on the other side of the dinning table, chairs pushed as close as possible. They had a big, thick book in front of them, heads down, elbows on the table so that they could crowd around it. Alexander stopped to watch them. It was a book he’d seen many times before. Just one in a long list, that, despite his effort, never had the time to get all the way through.

“Which one is that?” He asked, shuffling over so that he could pull a chair out next to Eliza.

They both looked up, Peggy’s grin wide. Eliza made room for him. Alexander glanced down at the array of pictures glued meticulously to the page.

“When Peggy was born. I forgot she was such a little fatty.” Eliza laughed into her palm, ignoring the nonplussed look she got from Peggy. Alexander laughed, eyes on a picture of a considerable younger looking Catherine holding a bundle to her chest. He’d seen this one before. Had poured through most of the ones that featured young Schuyler sister. He liked to fill in the gaps.  

“And the one where you feel down the stairs and cracked your head open,” Alexander laughed. Caught sight of another picture of a two-year-old Angelica pressing a tiny hand to her new sisters cheek.

“I was one, Alexander. I was still a baby,” Eliza threw back at him. She was trying to sound serious, but the slight mirth in her tone was giving her away. “Peggy was fat for years. I fell once – “

“And remember that time when we were leaving the house for school and you rolled your ankle running across the lawn,” Peggy interjected, giggling. Alexander looked up and chuckled.

“You fall over, Eliza. It’s your thing,” he said, rubbing her shoulder.

Eliza grumbled. “Shut up, both of you.”

Alexander smiled and reached out to flip the page, ignoring Peggy as she got up from the table. He had always been so impressed with how enthusiastic Phillip was with a camera. He’d told Alexander once that it had mainly started when he married Catherine and they had Angelica. The need to documents such important moments and be able to remember them the way they were.

There was a picture that was stuck to the top of the page, some midway through the book, of all five of them sitting on the lawn. This was different in the way that it was a polaroid, worn and yellowed at the edges. A picture that a friendly neighbour had taken and passed along as she was visiting them to see the new baby. All four ladies were wearing dresses of different colours. The sun shining down into a baby Peggy’s face, held up by her father on the grass. The were all huddled in almost a circle, Eliza laying prone on the ground while Angelica was posed as if to tickle her sisters stomach. Catherine, looking beautiful and young, her hair loose down the sides of her face, had a hand over her chest, smiling. She looked a way that Alexander had never seen before. Almost shy in the way she was glancing at her husband’s face. Phillip’s back was mostly to the camera, but Alexander wondered if he looked that way too. Like he was in love.

Sometimes, since the first time he saw it, and every time he was reminded that it existed, Alexander would wish that he was in that picture. Short hair, arms and legs darker from the sun, a grin on his face as he watched the girls play. He had the habit of looking at this particular picture as if it had come from the forefront of his dreams. Like he’d conjured it up himself, and forgot to put himself in there.

Eliza flipped the page for him. Over to where Angelica stood proud and tall in the back garden, apron a mess of paint, hair pulled back, piece of paper dangling from her fingers. A picture of horses in a field, is what it looked like she’d made. A very big smile on her face. She looked so tiny, Alexander mused.

When Peggy came back, she had Angelica in tow, four cider bottles in her hands, and another photo album tucked under her arm.

“So, I feel like ‘Liza and I have spent a little _too_ long sitting in here putting shit on each other,” she said, grin on her face. Set down the bottles in front of everyone and pushed the open album away to replace it with the one she had brought in.

“So, now it’s Alexander’s turn.”

Alexander laughed as Peggy got settled. Scooted over so that Angelica, who was mostly occupied by her phone, took a seat next to him. Peggy pulled back the thick leather cover of the album and pushed it more central to the four of them.

Honestly, this had never been an album that he’d looked at. This and the years that followed. Had never felt like he needed to catch up on years in the Schuyler household that he’d experienced himself. Had it all down to memory, really, but he almost had to laugh at the page that Peggy flipped to immediately.

Halloween, the year Alexander had turned fifteen. A close up off Alexander’s head half in a bucket, Eliza’s hands buried in his hair. They’d been playing bobbing for apples, despite Catherine’s concern that it was too cold, and he’d been eager to beat her. He remembers, vaguely, how he had to spit the apple out onto the grass, so he could cough up the water he’d inhaled when Eliza had shoved him down.

Another one below that. One that had him chuckling, despite how stupid it was. A fourteen-year-old Angelica with her arms wrapped tight around his waist, her lips pressed obscenely to his cheek, an over-the-top kiss just for the camera. They were all pictured in this one, all with coordinating outfits.  Peggy and Alexander had drawn the short straw that year, and Eliza, though she hadn’t complained, wasn’t even recognizable because of the jumpsuit and mask she wore. Peggy looked like a nonplussed Luke Skywalker, while Alexander was grinning wildly, trying to make the best out of his half-tattered Leia Organa dress. The matching outfits had been Phillips idea, and everyone loved it just enough to go with it.

It stayed liked that, more often than not. For them to all match in some obscene and ridiculous manner. It easily became one of Alexander’s favourite days after that.

“Do you want one of these, Alex?” Peggy was holding up one of the bottles of cider, waving it gently around her head.

Alexander glanced up and shook it his head once he realised what she was referring to. Peggy shrugged and wiggled the bottle in Angelica’s direction.

“I thought you were going to get drunk with me, man?” Eliza said, brows pulling down into a slight frown.

“On cider?” Angelica scoffed. Alexander leaned back to avoid the stray arm Eliza knocked into Angelica’s shoulder.

“We’re not alcoholics like you are, Ang. Some of us like to take it slow.”

“On cider?” Angelica scoffed again, and Alexander laughed.

Eliza ignored her in lieu gripping Alexander’s arm.

“Please, Alex? We’ll get a little tipsy, and then mum will drink and we can make fun of her when she starts slurring her words.” Eliza chuckled and wriggled in her seat, pulling at his wrist a little. Alexander smiled, but wasn’t so impressed.

“I want to, ‘Liza, but I can’t. I’ve just been, like, sick.” He started pawing at the album again, trying to distract her from his weak excuse.

Peggy got up from the table and bend down over the oven to check whatever was in it. There was a timer counting down on the little screen, still red numbers that told there was barely a minute left. He watched her start pulling bowls from the fridge.

“What, like, real sick?” Eliza asked, as Angelica leaned over to look at one of the pictures on the page he’d just turned to. Eliza beaming from her seat on the stairs, dressed in one of her mothers cascading, blue summer dresses.

“I told you, you were pregnant,” she threw in, and honestly, it sounded like she was accusing him of something. It made Alexander laugh so loud that he almost missed Peggy chuckling as well. Good, make a joke out of it, he thought.

“Well, yeah, you weren’t wrong, actually. I don’t know how you figured that out before I did though,” he threw out himself. Laughed at the delay of nervous energy to hit him.

Eliza grinned into the rim off her bottle, still staring at him, but Peggy’s head shot up so fast it was almost comical. She set down the bottle of olive oil she was dribbled over the salad.

“Wait, what?” She asked, her voice twisted in confusion.

Alexander chewed at his thumbnail nervously. Smiled at her when Eliza scoffed.

“Shut up, Alexander,” Eliza laughed. Alexander almost didn’t know how to proceed. He kind of wanted to laugh along with her, make a joke out of it.

“Peggy, darling, I would never lie to you, yes?” Angelica asked, bored expression on her face. She was still staring down at her phone.

Peggy didn’t answer, frowned. Frowned at Alexander.

“It’s true,” he muttered, voice small.

“It’s true,” Angelica sighed, and her eyes darted up to make eye contact with Peggy. “I saw the test that he took.”

Alexander felt relieved.

The room fell into silence. Peggy’s gaze flickered from Alexander to Angelica, and back, brows pulled down tight. When he caught Eliza’s eye, she glared at him.

“With who, Alexander? Whose baby are you having?” She sounded annoyed, not mad like she looked. She sat back in her seat to look at him, her cider bottle swinging between her index and thumb. She wasn’t mad, he noted. She still thought he was joking.

Okay, that. Alexander let the silence steep. Tried to think about what he wanted to say to that. There were many things he was willing to divulge to them right now, but he wasn’t sure whether that was one of them. Not yet.

Eliza’s face sort of morphed into something close to surprised. Peggy was still staring at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Thomas,” Eliza said. Set her bottle down hard and sat up. “– wait, you actually are? That’s why he can smell you?”

“Is it done? I can smell it from upstairs.”

Eliza almost jumped three feet in her chair as Catherine popped it, voice ringing out as she smiled at them. She caught Peggy’s weird expression and walked over to lay a hand on her forearm.

“Okay, darling? Can I help?”

Alexander grew nervous. The amount of anxiety that built in that moment was almost debilitating. Peggy frowned and turned to look at her mother, and Alexander almost started to panic, afraid of what might come out of her mouth.

“Actually,” he started, jumping up from his seat, ignoring Eliza’s disgruntled cuss as he shoved at her, “I was going to help, Catherine. I’m going to start setting the table. I feel like I’ve been useless all day.”

He pushed his chair in and went for the cupboards. Pulled out stacks of pure white, shiny plates and set them on the table.

“I’ll cut this up, my darling, can you finish preparing the salad?” Catherine asked Peggy, who was still frowning, but looked less likely to pursue their previous conversation. Alexander watched her from the corner of his eye as she went about it. Squeezed her hip as he passed, going for the cutlery draw where she was standing.

Peggy didn’t look at him, but she smiled slightly, one side of her mouth pulling up, and Alexander counted that as a win. For the moment.

* * *

 Dinner was a short and lazy affair.

No one ever felt like doing much the night before Thanksgiving dinner, so they all agreed to watch a movie after. Alexander had been the one to offer help for the cooking with Catherine, so they spent a half hour together discussing when to start and what dishes they were going to be taking care of. After the plates were cleared, and Phillip was done waxing poetic about Peggy’s wonderful culinary skills, discussion died down, and Eliza politely asked Catherine and Phillip to prepare the movie and relax while everyone else cleared up.

It was an ambush, if Alexander ever saw one, and Angelica had nothing to offer him but a sympathetic look while she started the sink for the pans. Eliza closed the kitchen doors once she was sure that the parents weren’t around, and Alexander almost groaned with disdain as he leaned back against the stove.

“Alexander Hamilton,” Peggy growled, and it was low and controlled, and made Alexander nervous. She was standing by the entryway between the kitchen and the dining room, a wash cloth in one hand, hip cocked against the counter. He tried to give her an innocent smile, but her expression was unchanging.

“Are you lying? Is this a joke? It’s not funny anymore,” she asked, and Alexander caught the underlining of annoyance in her tone.

Alexander caught himself fidgeting with the edge of his sweater, nervous smile still in place.

“It’s not a joke, Peggy. I’ve –“ He stopped to sigh, annoyed that this was actually real, “ – already told Thomas. I found out two weeks ago.”

He couldn’t look at her anymore after that. Picked up his glass of fizzy lemonade and brought it to his lips. Eliza and Peggy were still, Angelica seemingly ignoring everyone as she scrubbed at the sheet pan from the oven.

This was hard. His nerves were almost too much. He wasn’t afraid that they’d be disappointed. He wasn’t sure they would be, but his anxiety was an all-encompassing thing that refused to leave him alone even when he tried to quell it with good thoughts.

It was Catherine and Phillip he was worried about. There was nothing he was going to be able to push down the anxiety until he just up and told them.

Peggy, to Alexander’s relief, at least had the good sense to turn around to mask whatever she was feeling, even if it left him mostly in the dark and unable to gauge her reaction. When he glanced over to Eliza, he was surprised to see her smiling. Grinning was more accurate, her index finger tapping against her chin.

“Great! We’re all going to be aunties. Isn’t that exciting?” Angelica chirped, perking up with a sarcastic grin on her face. Alexander rolled his eyes.

Peggy sighed and spun back around, but Alexander was not expecting the smile that she was obviously trying to tamp down. He almost flinched when she threw down the wash cloth and bounded towards him.

"You fuck," Peggy whispered harshly, slapping his arm. Alexander had to step back to avoid spilling his drink.

"We spoke about this! I was supposed to have kids first, remember? We agreed on this. You can't fuck it up now."

Alexander laughed, anxious energy melting away. Eliza was giggling into her hand, Angelica looking nonplussed at Peggy. He'd been expecting someone to be angry at him, upset that he'd kept such a big secret for such a long time.

"I can't believe you had sex with Thomas Jefferson," Eliza laughed into her hand. Angelica's facade broke; she scoffed loudly and smiled behind her hand. Alexander warmed.

“It was an accident,” her muttered, reaching out to squeeze Peggy’s wrist.

“Shut up, Alexander,” Angelica muttered the same second that Eliza burst into a fit of laughter.

“How do you _accidently_ have sex with someone, Alex?” She quipped.

Alexander rolled his eyes. Clearly not what he had meant, but Angelica was truly smiling now. Set down the pan and the rubber gloves she had on just so she could stoke the fire.

“And how do you keep on having accidental sex in the obscene amounts that you do?”

Eliza laughed again, and Peggy took a step back to look at him.

“What?” she exclaimed, drawing out the world. Alexander flushed. Shot a glare at Angelica.

“Please don’t,” he muttered. Eliza couldn’t seem to stop, though.

“Alex, what the fuck? Are you and Thomas dating?” She asked, and Alexander almost laughed himself. Shot her a blank look.

“Eliza. No.”

But Eliza looked raring to go. Had her hands up as if she was trying to appease him.

“What? It’s okay if you are. We’ll still love you, but I think it’s important for you to know that he called you a loud-mouth motherfucker the first time he met you. So, as long as he’d respecting you and all.”

It was obscene, but Peggy laughed at the banter, and Alexander almost joined her. As ridiculous as the conversation was, to hear them both joke about it made him feel elated. Another few bricks hefted from his shoulders.

* * *

 They did, eventually, find themselves in the living room with Catherine and Phillip, despite how long it took for them to get there. Alexander sat at the kitchen table and let mostly Eliza and Peggy tease him relentlessly about his newfound sex life until Phillip came in wondering what was holding them up. Eliza, apparently, even half way through the movie, still thought it was funny. Refused to stop giggling despite how much times Angelica kept shushing her.

Alexander found it all very amusing, himself.

* * *

 Thanksgiving turned out to be far more stressful than Alexander had anticipated.

He’d got the turkey in the oven eventually, all shut in and annoyed because Eliza kept nit-picking and telling him he was doing it wrong. Peggy and Angelica had offered to help, but he found himself in such a mood that he’d just told them to go away. So, they left him there, alone, until Catherine, all stern voice and hands on hips, told Alexander to go take a nap and come back down when he had a better attitude.

He practically stomped up the stairs, moody and annoyed, and almost certain that he’d fucked up the pumpkin pie, even though he wasn’t even sure that was possible. Angelica joined him sometime later while he was under the covers, trying to sleep his bad mood away. She laid down next to him and pet his hair until he felt himself drift off.

There was a text on his phone that he’d received the previous night. Thomas had sent it through Whatsapp with “a few places to start” tagged onto the end. A list of – well, Alexander didn’t really know because he hadn’t bothered to click any of the links attached, but one of them had the words obstetrician-gynaecologist in the URL. So, he could guess.

It was the only text Thomas had sent him since Alexander never returned his others on Saturday. Alexander needed the space. Didn’t need Thomas messaging him the night before Thanksgiving with a reminder that Alexander needed to make a doctor’s appointment. He had time, and he was going to do it as slow or as fast as he wanted to.

But he hadn’t realised how much of a mood it put him in.

Not until he’d stepped out of the shower to dry his hair. Not until he wiped the steamed mirror and stared at his stomach in it. No bump and Alexander didn’t know how soon until it was to appear, but it was going to happen.

Catherine gave him a kiss when he made it to the dining room. Apologized for being in such a shitty mood, ruffled Eliza’s hair when she passed. He took his seat at the table, stomach heavy. There was a plate in front of him, the turkey sitting huge and golden on a platter, looking and smelling amazing. There was music coming from somewhere. A litany of notes that was only just distinguishable over the table chatter. He smiled when Peggy passed the potatoes.

Not for the first time, Alexander spent the whole meal trying to figure out what he was thankful for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas month!! Happy Holidays because I've got some news! Unfortunately, my next chapter, to be posted on the 8th, will be my last one for a month. Long time, I know, but I'm doing some major travel with my gf over December and the start of January, so the only problem is that I don't know when I'll have the time to post. If I find myself feeling up to it, I will, but I wouldn't expect anything.
> 
> As always, thank you for your amazing comments!! All the love!!
> 
> As a side note, I've been feeling weirdly indulgent and have written a stupid little jamilton kid fic christmas thing! I'm not posting it into the series, but look out for it closer to the 25th!


	7. Chapter 7

“Dude… Come on.”

Hercules, not for the first time that afternoon, looked just about ready to slap the food out of Alexander’s hands.

Alexander was trying not give away how amused he was.

“What, man? Can I just eat my food how I want?” He asked, dragging his fries through the spoon of Nutella that he’d taken once he’d been dragged back to Hercules’s apartment.

Hercules, apparently, was not having it. He was sitting back on the couch, staring down at Alexander over the coffee table, paper cup of fizzy lemonade in one hand and his phone in the other. His face was twisted in mild disgust.

“It’s fucking gross, Ham,” he grumbled. Alexander almost inhaled his food when he laughed.

“Herc, you put your fries in your goddamn soft serve, stop giving me shit,” he retorted, licking the stray bits of Nutella off his fingers.

“Everyone does that, dude. No one puts Nutella on their fries or chocolate sprinkles on their pizza.”

Alexander threw down his empty fries’ packet and chuckled. Dug around in the little fast food bag until he came up with his two cheeseburgers and twelve pack of chicken nuggets.

“I only do that shit when I’m high,” he muttered, eyes and most of his attention on unwrapping one of the burgers.

Alexander had work tomorrow. Had emails he had to read, some paperwork on his little desk at home that he was yet to go through. It was nearing a dreary Sunday evening. His attention span had been waning and waning the moment Angelica had dropped him home the night before, and he was feeling lethargic and petulant about returning to work. Was at that point where his body was more than happy to wake up without the assistance of an alarm.

He was here, mostly, at the request of Hercules. Wasn’t eager to do anything until someone had mentioned that John may be in need of some cheering up once he’d said goodbye to Lafayette at the airport.

He shuffled around the coffee table while Hercules flicked through another channel on the TV. Watched without much interest while he picked at his nuggets between each bite of his cheeseburger. It was on one of the lowest volumes, no one was really paying attention.

“John’ll be back soon?” He asked, mouth full. Hercules stabbed a toe into his side that made Alexander jump and grumble.

“Said he’d be back by five. Shouldn’t be too long,” Hercules replied. There was a pause between his actions, the TV still flashing muted colours while it broadcasted an apartment fire somewhere in Queens.

“Hey, be real with me for a second?” Hercules asked. Set down his drink and sat back on the couch. Alexander turned to look at him.

“Go for it.”

“What do you think about them dating?”

Alexander sighed noncommittally. “What do you mean? Like, do I like it?” he replied without thinking about it a whole lot. Wasn’t really sure how much John had told Hercules.

Hercules dug his toe back into Alexander’s side, but it was less harsh. He was thinking.

“You think Johns committed to it? I feel like I need to be worried.” Hercules was frowning.

John being committed to a relationship was kind of like ordering one of those twenty-thousand-dollar mystery boxes off of eBay and expecting it to be full of shit that you actually want.

 Which was to say, highly unlikely.

Only, Alexander was thrown completely off course with this one. And, apparently, so was Hercules.

 “Worried about what? Did something happen that I don’t know about?” Alexander hadn’t really kept to his phone over Thanksgiving, but John had sent him a few pictures here and there like he always did. His Persian cat, Abbey, a pouty Martha with a messy bun piled on the top of her head, Lafayette chatting with a very smiley Henry Laurens.

It was Alexander’s guess that John had chosen not to speak to Hercules about it, as much as he had to Alexander.

Hercules shrugged, eyes flicking back to the screen. “Nope. It’s a bit weird though, right? Like, when was the last time John travelled _anywhere_ just to see a boyfriend?”

Hercules was right in that respect. John was committed to many things, believed in seeing through the things he believed in and loved, but relationships weren’t really one of them. Alexander could count on one hand how many people John had dated that anyone would brand “serious”. For an understandable amount of reasons, but John had never been so close to someone to consider the idea that he might be in love with them.

It was a thing to consider. When John had told him that only a week before, Alexander hadn’t had time to dwell on it. John was embarrassed, and Alexander didn’t have words at the time, and John wasn’t going to want to talk about it again until he cooled off. But it was a true thought, and Alexander pondered the same thing. This was so far from what John was usually like.  

“Well, this is different. Maybe he’s just done with all of that.”

Alexander turned his head back to the screen. Hercules stayed quiet. Not knowing what to say, maybe, because Hercules usually maybe his opinions known to Alexander. The lapse in conversation was welcome, anyway.

Hercules was still tapping through the channels, idle, distracted. Alexander, through a mouth full of cheeseburger, told him to hurry up and pick something before they both died of old age, and that was the definite end to the conversation for the time being.

 

Another cool thing about Hercules, that Alexander didn’t actually think was cool and actually really hated, was that he was only respectful to other people’s _private_ lives until a point.

He could keep a secret, pick up when someone was embarrassed about something, keep his mouth shut if he could see that he had to. The problem only arose when some time passed between here and there, and Hercules understood that to be enough time before he stuck his nose into it.

They’d switched to Netflix instead, the remote tight in Alexander’s hand because he’d gotten sick of Hercules’s indecisiveness. Were only halfway through the first episode before Alexander felt a toe prod at his ribs. He pushed the coffee table away so that he could bring his knees up. Turned slightly to acknowledge Hercules, but his attention was still on the screen.

“Dude,” he muttered, sock sliding against Alexander’s shirt. Alexander sighed and hummed.

“Yup?”

“Dude, I have a question.”

Alexander turned to look at him. Hercules was smirking.

“Can we discuss now?”

Which, of course, made Alexander almost groan, because that exact sentence was always a prelude to some torturous conservation about some embarrassing thing Alexander had probably done years ago in university.

And here Hercules was, ready to bring it out again.

Alexander tried to ignore him. Turned back to the screen, a one-shoulder shrug. Hercules let it slide for twenty gracious seconds before there was another jab at his ribs.

“About your thing with Thomas.”

And, honestly, what had Alexander been expecting?

Mercy?

For Hercules to just leave it alone?

Unlikely.

Alexander leaned back against the couch. Sighed loudly, dramatically, just long enough to make it evident that he was being an inconvenience right now.

“You have three questions. Go.”

Hercules laughed. The sound of it made Alexander grimace. It was a peace offering. Alexander would answer any question truthfully and Hercules would drop it for at least a month.

Results.

Alexander chanced a glance to his right. Hercules, of course, had a grin on his face.

“Three? That’s all you’re giving me? Don’t insult me, Hamilton.”

Alexander gave him the finger. Hercules laughed but didn’t put up much of a fight.

“Okay, first, are you dating him?” Hercules asked, amusement in his tone.

Alexander groaned, his expression morphing into something blank. Tried to pin as much sarcasm into the look as he could. It was a joke. Hercules already knew the answer to that one.  

“Try again, asshole.”

Hercules shot him a confused look, grin still in place. “What if that is my first question, though?” He asked, shifting back so he was laying further on the couch.

Alexander groaned. “Herc, mate, you’re lowering my IQ as we speak.”

Hercules through his head back and laughed. Alexander couldn’t help but feel a little amused. Picked at his food to mask it. He could be a cop-out. Say that it definitely counted as a question, so he’d have one less to answer, but Hercules was likely to throw a fit until he got his way.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled, “I got one. Probably the most important one.” He paused for a second, stretched out over the couch with a leg thrown over the side. “Why?”

Alexander paused and had to think about that one. Was a little caught off guard. It wasn’t a question he’d ever really asked himself or thought about.

“I like getting laid,” he muttered, but it came out sounding more like a question.

Hercules, apparently, thought that was funny because he scratched a hand over his shorn head and laughed again. Didn’t look like he really believed that.

“Yeah, but isn’t it awkward as fuck?”

Alexander chuckled. “Is that your second question?”

Another jab hit Alexander in the ribs.

“Come one, dude, help me out here. You owe me, right? I haven’t told a single person.”

Alexander scoffed. Not a feat, Hercules loved having dirt on people. He was the manipulating one, and everyone knew it.

“Fuck off, Herc. You want me to be nice or not?”

Hercules chuckled, his leg fidgeting over the side of the couch.

“Alright, you know what? I’m not sure I even want to know. Are you going soft? He’s a tool.”

Alexander chuckled as well, but it wasn’t very funny.

 _Yeah_ , he thought bitterly, _I am. Just a little bit. Not anything to worry about_.

He left Hercules there. Shuffled into the kitchen and set his glass down to root around in the fridge for the orange juice. Poured himself another one while his knee bounced idly. When he found his spot on the floor again, Hercules was yawning.

“It’s not a thing –“ _anymore,_ he was going to say, the glass at his lips, but the door swung open. John, human-whirlwind, pouring into the apartment so fast that he almost gave the impression of being chased. He slammed the door shut, stripped his coast and beanie off with vigour, kicked his shoes against the wall and dug his hand into Alexander’s carton of nugget all before either of them could blink.

“Okay, mate,” Hercules chuckled, throwing his leg back over the couch and sliding up so that John could squeeze in next to him.

“What’s ‘is?” He asked, erratic as he dropped his food into his lap to pull his curls up into a bun, eyes seemingly everywhere besides either of them.

“Black Mirror. All good?” Alexander asked, turning so that he was facing John a little more, his back to the TV. He smiled lazily as he watched John shove all three nuggets into his mouth at once. He didn’t miss the way John shot him a look before his eyes flicked back up to the screen.

“Does he fuck the pig?”

Hercules snorted and flicked back to the Netflix home screen. “Yeah, he fucked the pig.”

Alexander rubbed at the stubble along his jaw, so far removed from this conversation that he wasn’t quite sure what was going on.

“You guys want a drink?” John asked, foot almost catching Alexander in the leg in his haste to get up from the couch. He stumbled into the kitchen, and Alexander laughed at the shared look he had with Hercules.

“Yeah, grab me a beer?” Hercules called. Alexander gnawed at his lip.

“I’m going to pass actually. I need to get some work done for tomorrow.” He chewed at the last two chicken nuggets in the cartoon and piled his rubbish back into the paper bag.

Hercules made a disapproving noise.

“Dude, aren’t you supposed to do your work _at work_?”

Alexander caught John’s ‘ _dickhead’_ mutter from the kitchen and laughed.

When John came back and settled on the couch, Alexander decidedly ignored the beer that was set in front of him.

 

Monday afternoon came around with Alexander feeling ragged. He was feeling overwhelmed, to say the least.

Alexander had spent his lunch break at his desk, trying to ignore certain text messages, and trying to conjure up appropriate replies to others.

John was feeling anxious, apparently. Texting Alexander stupid question until Alexander had to stop looking at his phone because the uselessness of it all was starting to frustrate him. Apparently, he’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, and couldn’t seem to improve his mood no matter what he did. It wasn’t helping that Thomas wasn’t leaving him alone.

It was starting to get to him.

Since the day before Thanksgiving, Alexander hadn’t been able to look at some of the other things that Thomas has sent him. Didn’t want to admit that maybe he didn’t want to. There was a level of responsibility that he knew was there. That he had to make a move soon, do something. He had plans to make a call, woke up early and searched the closest health clinic to him that catered to his classification, spent a few minutes while brushing his teeth to read about what services they offered. He wasn’t registered, but if he did, they’d give him a referral, do his first checkup and ultrasound screening. Give him a plethora of information on being a first-time mother. Help him through it.

So, he had that.

They didn’t close until eight at night, as well, so he could go after work. Make an appointment, go home and shower, meet Thomas there. Maybe? Because Thomas would want to come, probably. There’d been no hint of it in the messages he sent Alexander’s way, but Alexander didn’t want to assume otherwise. Considered making the appointment and texting the details to Thomas and letting him decide from there.

Alexander chewed at his lip and watched the time change over while he stared at a case file. Took his time while he packed up his things. It was a little early, but he’d done most of what he needed to do today, and the sooner he could leave, the better.

He received the long awaited message from Peggy just as he was making his way outside. Had to pause just inside the doors of the lobby while he fiddled with his umbrella.

_17:13  
did u get everything sortd? Ang said shell help if you need it_

_Yeah,_ he wanted to type back,  _but I don't want Ang to help if it's going to make her miserable._

There was another three by John that Alexander hadn’t bothered to read because he’d been fed up and tired by that point in the day. He swung his backpack over his shoulders and stepped out into the light rain, writing out his reply with just his thumb.

_14:45  
Yeah I dnt know. What do you think? You know rhat ive never had to think about this stuff right??_

_14:57  
I told him_

_15:01  
Some really stupid shit. I told him what I told you_

**17:13  
Wait you told him rhat you think you love him?? When? At the airport?**

Down on the train, Alexander shoved his phone into his pocket and put his headphones in, shoving himself into the train car. It was busy and bustling like it always was, but Alexander’s mind was elsewhere.

He’d make the appointment today. It was on the way. He could get off a few stations earlier, ask what he needed to do, what type of documentation he needed. Needed to start thinking about finding someone who could help him with this. Maybe someone like a midwife or whatever they were called, he didn’t know the difference. He knew he needed someone of the sort anyway, but Alexander had no idea where to go with this, and as much as he wanted to, he didn’t think it would’ve been appropriate to ask Angelica. Didn’t want to drag her through mess she’d been through before.

When Alexander stepped back above ground, it was still drizzling. He let his phone lead him until he came across a thick set of black gates with a long winding driveway, a sign with an arrow leading down to reception. Alexander sighed and followed the path. Came up to a long, double story building with an array of signs out the front. The whole thing itself with pearly white, clean, high windows, a single door with an intercom next to the reception sign. The plaque on the concrete wall read ‘Harlem Health clinic’.

There was a lady wearing a soft lavender sweater on the other side of the doors, sitting behind a marble counter with a few sheaves of paper in her hand. She spotted Alexander before he could press the button. Buzzed him in with a smile. Alexander shot her one back, his nerves rising. He let the door click shut behind him.

It was warm. Much warmer than it was outside. The waiting room was bigger than he expected. Soft, padded chair lined the sides of the room. Generic pictures of babies and information about flu jabs lined the lime green walls. Another set of glass doors off to the left.

“Hi, do you have an appointment?” The lady asked. She was Omega; Alexander could smell it on her.

Alexander settled a hand on the counter. “Ah, no, I wanted to make one. To see a doctor.”

“Sure. Do you know which doctor you’d like to see?”

Alexander’s leg started to fidget unconsciously. “No, I’m not registered. I wanted to set up a prenatal appointment.”

The lady gave him another gentle smile and shifted her chair over to a set of office drawers. Started opening them and pulling out different stacks of stapled paper.

“Do you have an idea of how far along you are? We suggest booking a prenatal appointment sometime after the eighth week.” She set two booklets down on the counter.

Alexander smoothed his hand over the one on his left. “Yeah, nearly eleven?”

One of them was a registration form, the thicker one on his right. She leant over the counter and gestured to it. “Okay, lovely. These are the two forms you’re going to need to fill out. This bigger one is your registration form, which I’m going to ask that you fill out before we make your appointment if that’s okay. That way the doctor can be more prepared for your visit.” She set down a pen and gestured to the other one. “This one will be for the actual prenatal appointment. It’ll just be a few questions. Most of it will be the same as in the registration, so feel free to take this one with you and bring it back in when you come to see the doctor.”

Alexander pulled his backpack off his shoulders and folded the stabled papers, set this in between the pages of the book he read on the train. “Thanks,” he murmured, picking up the booklet and pen. He gave her another smile and took a seat on one of the chairs.

The form was like any other he’d filled out. Questions about his medical history, his classification, any familial diseases, whether he had a preference for an Omega doctor or a Beta. Alexander filled in his personal information, pen scratching lightly across the paper. It was a breeze to get through until he reached the section on family medical history. Had no information for that one, so he just left it blank. When he was done, everything filled in as much as possible, he approached the counter again. The lady gave him another smile from her computer when he slid it to her.

“Great! Give me a few and we’ll discuss availability and times.”

 

It wasn’t until Thursday that Alexander finally caved.

He had a date and a time for the following Tuesday, straight after work, because apparently, the first check-up was always one of the longest. He’d saved it into his calendar, sent it over to Angelica with a promise to keep her updated. Knew only that it was going to involve an ultrasound screening and that it would help if he kept his fluids up for the day.

He’d messaged Thomas straight after. Didn’t get a reply until he’d gone to bed. When Thomas asked to meet him sometime during the week, for lunch maybe, Alexander took days before he sucked it up and sent an affirmative answer back.

There was finality to this. A feeling that Alexander couldn’t seem to identify until Eliza had made a baby joke. There was a peace to it. A point where he the anxiety didn’t sit so heavily over him.

So, he was here, a coffee shop address that Thomas had sent him, fifteen minutes after he’d rushed out of work with a quick smile to his boss. A saucer of earl grey, half full, sitting on the table at his elbow. He watched people come and go, with their coffee’s and loaves of bread. It was a bakery of sorts, with spacious booths and arched windows, an underlining theme of red and cream. The chatter was quiet; apparently, they even served fresh meals. Platters of croissants and seeded buns with cheese and lettuce and everything that Alexander was craving more and more as he watched them be served. It was his own fault; he left work early, considered getting something to eat, knew he was going to be early anyway.

When the chair opposite was pulled out, Alexander startled a little bit. Lifted his head from his hand as he turned to stare up at his company.

Thomas looked a little ragged, honestly. His hair was a mess around his head, no better surely because of the cold weather and rain. He looped his messenger bag over his chair, scarf and coat following. His suit was shimmering grey, his tie a neutral blue. Alexander offered him a smile.

“I hope you did something with your hair before you left for work this morning,” Alexander murmured, his cup at his lips. The table, very few being available, was so small that Thomas’s knees bumped into his when he pulled his chair in. He gave Alexander a returning smile, his eyes shifting into something a little less than exhaustion. When he leaned forward with his elbows on the table, Alexander had the distinct urge to lean back so that they weren’t so close.

“Hm. I tried. Clearly, it hasn’t worked though. I’ve been getting weird looks from my secretary all day,” Thomas murmured back. Alexander chuckled.

“Do you want another one of those? I need a coffee right now,” he asked, gesturing to the cup that Alexander still held close. Alexander declined and took another sip. Was quiet as he listened to Thomas order his drink, the waiter giving them both a smile when he left.

Alexander put his mug down and leaned back, agitated at the way their legs kept bumping under the table. He wanted to say something. To say what he'd been reciting on the way over. When Thomas gaze fell back onto him, Alexander gnawed at his lip and sat up straight, his legs tucked under the chair.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. So quiet that he wasn’t sure Thomas even heard him. Alexander wasn’t sure if he meant the apology, but he’d been feeling like it needed to be said for a while now.

Thomas’s face went lax. He seemed to slump a little in his seat, his lips turned down slightly. Alexander couldn’t meet his eyes.

“Me too. I… “ Thomas cleared his throat nervously, his tone smaller than Alexander had ever heard it. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I was an asshole when you told me.”

 Alexander tapped a finger along the ridge of his saucer. “I’ve been –“ he started, but Thomas cut him off.

“Not just that. Give me a second, I need to say this.” Alexander looked up long enough to see the nervous expression cross Thomas’s face. He was still leaning close, both elbows on the table, but he kept his eyes on the table.

“This is entirely my fault, I’ll take that. Not that I’ve ever needed to prompt you when to be mad at me –“ his gaze flickered up here, long enough to shoot Alexander a smile “ – but I get it. I should’ve been more responsible. Especially when I could tell that you were still in heat.”

Oh.

Alexander hadn’t even thought of that.

Well, yes, okay, maybe that was true. Maybe that they’d both been drunk and complimented each other classification wise wasn’t much of an excuse to go on. The idea of blaming Thomas for that had not ever crossed his mind. He’d taken a morning-after pill the _morning after_. Why it hadn’t worked, Alexander hadn’t known.

Anyway, he’d been in heat. It felt like the fault was more with him.

“This whole thing... ” Alexander sighed, frustrated. “I appreciate it, but I’d be the biggest asshole if I blamed you for that. I don’t. It hadn’t even crossed my mind. I just don’t know what the fuck happened to the contraception I took. I’m one hundred percent sure that I did it right. I mean, it was just a bloody pill.”

And wasn’t that a weird feeling. Alexander felt like he was unloading how he felt. To Thomas.

The silence that followed was interrupted by the return of the waiter. He set down a cup and saucer in front of Thomas. Shuffled off when Alexander shook his head to another drink. Alexander locked his fingers together and set them down on the table inches from Thomas’s. A weird thing that he couldn’t stop noticing.

“Do you want to come?”

Thomas’s brows pulled together. “To the appointment? You know I want to.”

Alexander nodded. “Good, because I don’t want to do it alone,” he said, all in one go. Was nervous to admit it.

Thomas’s gaze dropped, but his face softened. He was quiet. Alexander stared down the lines in Thomas’s face. Where his hair was pulled back, the wrinkles that dotted obscurely near his eyes, the stubble down his jaw. When something bumped into his interlocked fingers, Alexander kept his gaze up. Followed the curve of Thomas’s neck, down to where it disappeared into the collar of his shirt. Where he had notches in the skin along his neck, a few freckles here and there, Thomas had none. All smooth, clean-shaven skin.

A finger, rough, pulled at Alexander’s hand until it could lock around one of his own. It stilled after that; Thomas’s index loosely wrapped around his. Alexander didn’t think there was anything intimate in it, but it wasn’t unintentional when their knees bumped together and stayed that way. It felt like one of those moments that existed outside of reality. Like, sometime after they started having sex, casual skin contact just became a thing that was only sort of real. Like their arms pressed together over a pub table, or someone’s lips pressed against someone else’s shoulder in the minutes before Alexander truly understood that he’d awoken in Thomas’s bed. Like a heavy set of arms wrapped loosely around his waist in the cold air outside of the pub, after everyone else had left. Like that; like it was normal.

Just like Alexander craved.

Thomas breathed a sigh. “You need to tell me how you want this to go. How you want to do it,” He murmured, his tone soft. His hand moved so that he could pull further at Alexander’s arm. straightened his fingers out, palm parallel to the table so that their fingers could lock together.

“I don’t know. I have to think about. Figure it out… “ He trailed off, eyes hard on the glossy tabletop before he looked up and met Thomas’s gaze.

“Okay,” Thomas muttered.

“Okay,” Alexander parroted, feeling horribly like he was being the less helpful one in the moment. “Okay, and what about you. Do you know? What you want?”

 And Thomas smiled. So suddenly and secretive. A fire ignited somewhere in Alexander’s sternum. Stifling hot.

“I have an idea,” Thomas murmured. Squeezed Alexanders fingers before he let go. Reached out for his coffee, moved so that he was leaning back in his chair. All contact ceased, the moment over, but it didn’t stop Alexander from feeling it, still, like the ghost of an imprint.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmmmmm i am SO very tired
> 
> I hope you guys had a good holidays. I'm sorry I didn't post this in December like I said I would, but I decided that I didn't want to take my laptop travelling with me.
> 
> Anyway, my fiance and I saw Hamilton on the 11th so not only did I cry my eyes out but also, I forgot that Hamilton's birthday was the same day!
> 
> (breaking news: i. am. engaged. wtf)


	8. Chapter 8

 It was Eliza, surprisingly, that caught up with Alexander just as he was leaving the office for the day.

She called to him just as he stepped from the building, a brown paper gift bag in one hand and her bulking backpack over her shoulder, completely out of breath.

“Hey, you alright?” He asked. Held steady when she latched tight to his jacket to lean down and take big gulping breaths of air. She gave him a grin and laughed.

“Yeah,” she puffed in between breaths. “I wanted to make sure I caught you before you left. My phone died.”

Alexander helped her up. “I’ve got to go, Eliza. My appointments in forty minutes.”

“Oh, I know.” She slapped his arm light-heartedly. “Actually, I was wondering if I could walk with you for a bit, just until you get there? I wanted to catch up. And!” She paused. Shot him a mischievous little grin. “This is for you!”

Alexander stared down at the gift bag that she held out. Not too big, plain. When he took a peek inside, he could make out a silvery looking box.

“It’s from Peggy and me. We got it together. You know. As a… Anyway, Angelica refused to help so she doesn’t get any credit, but she thought it was nice anyway.”

Alexander stared at her suspiciously, brows pulled down. He took the bag carefully and gave it a shake. “What is it?”

Eliza laughed. Grabbed onto his bent elbow and pulled him leisurely through the throngs of people on the path. “Don’t look so scared, it’s a gift. We just wanted to get you something, you know? To say we love you.”

Alexander shifted it to his other hand. He smiled at her softly and reached up to squeeze her fingers. “Okay, but what is it?”

Eliza chuckled. “A surprise. Open it when you get home. Don’t let anyone else see. Especially not Thomas.”

And, okay, that was ridiculously suspicious. He shot her a questioning look, but she turned away with a grin on her face.

“Is he coming?”

Alexander sighed and stared ahead. Honestly, her company was welcome if it meant he’d stop feeling nervous for a good few minutes.

“Yeah. He’s meeting me there.”

“And everything is okay?” Her tone was a little more delicate here. Alexander tried not to frown.

“Yeah, it’s fine. So far. We spoke last night. He wanted to talk about where the baby will be born.”

Actually, they’d spoken a lot over the last couple of nights. Over the phone, mostly. After work just as Alexander got out of the shower and Thomas was on his way home. After they’d met that last time, Alexander had gone home with a distinct feeling that he had to write a list of everything he was sure he wanted so far. Questions he needed to answer himself, and some that he needed to ask of others. He’d voiced everyone one of them to Thomas; listened quietly while Thomas did the same. On Monday night, they’d argued. Thomas asking where the baby was going to live. Not entirely happy with Alexander’s “with me” if Alexander wasn’t willing to discuss a little more. And yes, Alexander knew he was being a little unfair. It was so far away from him at that point, that he didn’t see the need to worry about it now.

“At a hospital?” Eliza asked, confused. Alexander's frown deepened.

“Yeah, but I think he wants to pick. Which, I mean, I guess I don’t really care, but I can’t afford to pay more than I need too.”

And that was the exception, wasn’t it? He could make jokes about it, mention here and there, but when it came down to it, Alexander had no idea how he was going to pay for it all. Had no idea what his job looked like after everything. Had yet to even tell his boss that he was expecting.

“It can’t be easy worrying about all of this right now,” Eliza muttered, the train car doors closing behind them. “Christmas is in less than a month. You haven’t even told mum and dad.”

Alexander shrugged, his worries elsewhere. “I’ll worry about it when it comes. They can’t hate me too much, can they?” He chuckled. Just as a joke because he knew they could never hate him for it. Eliza’s deep frown told him she didn’t find it very funny. She lapsed into silence, her back turned slightly to him, swaying with the movements of the train. Alexander wondered for a brief second how he was going to do it. Call them? Apologize for not saying something sooner? He couldn’t very well turn up a few days before Christmas and not notify them beforehand.

“I’m going to get off next stop. I want to go visit that shop near the park with the nice gift cards,” Eliza said, grasping onto his jacket again. “Can I ask you something, though?”

Alexander gave her a nod, smiling. Her expression shifted into something a little more solemn.

“You’ve spoken to Thomas, right? Like, seriously? He’s not just going to leave this with you, is he?”

Alexander hesitated. Considered all of the simple conversations he’d shared with Thomas just over the past week.

“No,” he murmured. Gave her a kiss on the cheek as the train started to slow. “I don’t think so. I think he really is going to help.”

Eliza smiled. She patted his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Good.”

* * *

 

 The man behind the reception desk was Jeremy if Alexander read his name tag right. He buzzed Alexander in without a second to wait. Gave a short smile when Alexander approached.

“Afternoon. Have an appointment?” He asked, his tone bored, European accent.

Alexander’s eyes caught Thomas’s fuzzy hair somewhere in the back. The waiting room was filled with chatter, surprisingly crowded. “Ah, yeah, with Doctor Chiswell. For six?”

He was given a short look, then Jeremy became occupied with his computer. Alexander’s eyes flickered over to Thomas. Who, apparently, hadn’t noticed he’d come in because he was sitting on a chair next to a poster that warned against wrongfully taking antibiotics, what looked like a case folder in his hands. Hair pulled back, head down, clearly not bothered by the child two seats from him that was fussing.

“Okay, Mr Hamilton? Take a seat and the doctor will be with you soon.”

 Alexander threw out a “thanks” and made his way down the room. He slid his backpack and scarf from his shoulders, passed the blond-haired child, who stared at him imploringly while he fiddled with his shoelaces. Thomas had draped his scarf and coat over the back of the chair, wearing the same suit that he’d been wearing last Thursday, maroon tie loosened around his neck. He was frowning, fingers fidgeting over the corner of one of his papers.

Alexander sighed quietly and took the seat next to him, teeth in his bottom lip. Thomas’s eyes flickered sidelong at him.

“I was worried you’d be late,” he muttered. Closed the file and sat it on his lap.

Alexander set down the paper bag in between his shoes. “I ran into Eliza as I was leaving.”

“She okay?”

“Hmm.” He fiddled with the handles of the bag, gaze on the TV that hung in the corner of the room. It was some muted news channel with closed captions.

Alexander let it lapse into silence. Let Thomas ignore him and go back to reading whatever was so important to him. He kept his eyes on the TV. Wanted to continue the heated conversation that they’d had last night because there’d been so much left unsaid, but he didn’t want to have it in a room full of people he didn’t know.

Not only that, but his gaze fell on a man that looked a little younger than him, and, well, was very distracting for the simple fact that he was  _very_ pregnant. He was leaning back in his chair in a way that looked slightly uncomfortable, one hand on his stomach. Alexander couldn’t have guessed how far along he was. Honestly, he looked just about ready to pop. Alexander fidgeted in his seat. Wondered how that felt, to have all the weight. To have another _human being_ so evidently inside of him. How strange it would feel to watch his own body change like that.

He remembered a time when Angelica looked just like that. Smaller, which only went on to accentuate her growing belly. The way she used to complain about sore ankles and bumps in the night and the constant urge to go to the bathroom. She told him once, sometime in her third trimester maybe, that if he spoke to her baby, he’d hear it. He’d hear Alexander’s voice. Would recognize it as a constant, would know him just by the tone.

Almost years ago, now, but Alexander could still remember what it was like to lay his hand against her bare stomach and feel it rise when the baby kicked. The man across from him would know what that felt like, surely.

Alexander wanted to put a hand on his own stomach. No change, no way to tell that he was pregnant, but an overwhelming feeling caught him up. The joy on Angelica’s face as the weeks went by, the stretch marks along her abdomen, the crib and the drawers full of colourfully patterned jumpsuits. Would Alexander have that as well?  

Alexander contemplated quietly, gaze drifting to the floor. He picked at the frayed pieces of leather on his watch, tapped his nails against the glass face. He was distracted by his own thoughts so much that he just barely caught his name being called.

Thomas shifted beside him. The man, the doctor perhaps, was much older, with dark hair and a dark blue collared shirt. Alexander jumped to attention, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and his scarf over his arm, paper bag in one hand. Thomas did the same.

“This way, please,” The man said, and they both followed past the reception desk, through the glass doors on the other side, out of the waiting room. Down a corridor with lime green walls still marked with health and safety posters and plaques with other doctor’s names on it. They took a left into an open door, another office, and Alexander paused, Thomas almost bumping into him.

“Take a seat, please,” The man said, closing the door behind him. Alexander did, gazing around the room. Not unlike any other office he’d been into before. A big oak desk, glass cabinets filled with labelled boxes, an examination table on the far side. The posters here were filled with information on fetus development and healthy food groups.

Doctor Chiswell himself, Alexander guessed, was close to fifty. Short combover hair, thin, Almost as tall as Thomas. Alexander felt a little awkward sitting there by the desk, Thomas in the chair to his right. The doctor took a seat in his office chair and held out a hand to Alexander.

“Good evening, I’m Ishan. I’ll be helping you with your prenatal appointment today.” Alexander shook the hand that was offered, returned the smile. “Alexander, good to meet you.”

Thomas Reached out for the doctor’s hand as well, introducing himself. Doctor Chiswell took a seat and picked up a pen from his desk.

“Well, congratulations on your first pregnancy, Alexander. Thomas, first-time parent as well?”

Thomas perked up a little. “Ah, yes,” He stuttered, hands fiddling against his knees. Doctor Chiswell gave him a wide smile.

“Wonderful! So, you’re both on the same page. This’ll be easy then.” He shuffled closer to the desk and pulled out a few sheaves of paper from his desk drawer. Set them down next to a clay figure that reminder Alexander of a Pokémon.

“Okay, great, because I kind of have no idea what I’m doing here,” Alexander mumbled, light-hearted.

Thomas chuckled beside him. “We’re both on the same page with that one as well,” he said, amusement in his tone. Doctor Chiswell puffed out a short laugh and sat back in his seat. Alexander could be wrong, but the man honestly looked delighted.

“No,” he chuckled, “I expect so. And nerves are always high the first time ‘round, so let me ease that a little bit. We’ll do a little rundown of what I’ll need from both of you today, go through any questions that you have. Feel free to stop me whenever you need. We’ll go through the easy stuff first, so a few questions about medical history.” Doctor Chiswell nudged the mouse on the desk to wake up his computer. Paused to click around for a few seconds.

“Alexander, I think you’re all good. A few blank spots here and there that we’ll need to fill in if possible. Thomas, I’m sure I’ll be asking you most of the questions in that field though. After we get all the boring stuff done, we’ll do a physical. Alexander, I’ll need to take your height and weight, and, if you don’t mind, a urine sample. We’re going to be doing quite a few tests this time, just to check that everything is in order and that you’re as healthy as we can get you. And then” He tapered off, paused, eyes roving over the monitor. “I’ve scheduled you in for a sonogram. Sound good?”

Alexander smiled and gave him a nod.

* * *

 

 Alexander learnt two things about Thomas in the thirty-five minutes it took to go through both of their family histories.

 The first was that Thomas had a hereditary gene that caused blood clots. That it hadn’t affected him as of yet, but that there was still a very big chance that it could be passed on.

The second was that he had a dead sister.

He stumbled over this information when he conveyed it. Told Doctor Chiswell that she’d passed away when she was ten due to leukaemia. Stared somewhere on the desk between Alexander and the monitor, tone low, mumbling. The doctor brushed over it, said there was no evidence that it was hereditary, that there was nothing to worry about, and that became the end of it. Alexander hadn’t known that.

When it was time, the doctor took a few samples of blood. Asked about his lifestyle; the food that he ate, whether he smoked, how often he drank alcohol. Told him to go a little easy on the caffeine consumption. Blood pressure, urine sample, determined that he was just under eleven weeks, suggested he eat a little more, could do good with a few extra pounds. Alexander couldn’t have guessed how long the whole thing took, but by the end of it, Thomas looked bored and Alexander was exhausted. Couldn’t tell whether it was the baby sucking up some of his energy, or that he was getting tired of answering questions and being handled to move around so much.

He was given a few little leaflets of information, like food and drink that he could no longer consume. Found himself riveted when Doctor Chiswell made a circle with his fingers to show him how big his baby was. Almost two inches, with forming hair follicles and tiny toes and fingers. Alexander was told he could expect many things to change body-wise. Dry or oily skin, darkening on his stomach. That the mood swings and the sore legs were there to stay, if only for a few weeks longer. The forming placenta would start to stimulate his milk glands, and soon, his chest would start to swell in preparation to form sustenance for after the birth. He’d start to feel his body change from here on out due to the growth. When he was told that the baby was big enough to start stretching, moving slightly, Alexander breath almost stopped.

His baby was moving. His baby could move!

Doctor Chiswell told him it was unlikely that he’d feel it now. Alexander surreptitiously snuck his hand into the folds of his jacket and laid it on his stomach.

His baby was there. Moving. Wriggling. Alive. With little see-through skin and opposable thumbs.

Alexander felt his nerves return, but it felt different. Not so debilitating. Like excitement.

So exciting that Alexander almost forgot about the sonogram. Got so lost in the list of vitamins that he was suggested to take, thoughts elsewhere, that when Doctor Chiswell set down his pen and pushed his chair back, Alexander almost jumped in surprise. Heart in his chest when they were both asked to follow the doctor back down the corridor. Past other closed doors. offices, a staircase and a lift.

The room they entered into this time looked a lot more technical than any other room that Alexander had been in. Another examination table, with a booth off to the side, almost obscured by a dark blue curtain. There was a machine in here that Alexander had never seen before. Looked just like a computer, only the monitor was so much bigger, and there were wires and cords attached to it that he barely knew what he was looking at.

“Alright, Alexander, if you want to set your stuff down, take your jacket off for me.”

Alexander did as instructed. Backpack down by another chair, scarf draped over it. Thomas took his jacket from him when he took it off, squeezed his shoulder, thumb rubbing circles into his back for a few seconds. Alexander stood there while the doctor fiddled with the monitor.

“You okay?” Thomas asked, nails running soft patterns along Alexander’s thin sweater.

“Yeah,” He answered back, voice a little breathless, nervous.

“Alright, if we’re ready to go, Alexander, I’m going to get you to lay down on the table and lift your shirt up to your chest.”

Alexander breathed out a sigh. Thomas followed him over to the table. Stood back a little as Alexander did as he was instructed. He could see the monitor better from here, blank, black, with a white border around it. Doctor Chiswell approached with a thin piece of cloth, like a small blanket, only, there was a cut-out in the middle. He placed it over Alexander until the cut-out was positioned over his stomach.

“Push these down for me a little,” he asked, gestured to Alexander’s slacks. “Baby’s still quite small at the moment, so they’ll be sitting quite low in the stomach.”

Alexander did as instructed. Undid his belt and shimmied a little until the waistband was sitting obscenely low. Doctor Chiswell adjusted the piece of cloth. He shifted the back of the table a little higher so that Alexander had better support under his head.

“Alright, I’m going to put a little bit of gel on your stomach so that we can see your baby perfectly. Be prepared, it’s cold.”

He snapped gloves over his hands, held a piece of the machine in one hand. Alexander had no idea what it was called. Had never seen one in real life before. Doctor Chiswell held a transparent bottle in one hand. Held it face down over Alexander’s stomach until a little dollop landed on Alexander’s abdomen. Alexander puffed out a gasp at the chill.

“Alright,” the doctor muttered, the machine in hand. “Let’s have a look at little baby.”

He pressed the machine to Alexander’s stomach, and Alexander wondered, for a quick second, if they’d be able to hear how fast his own heart was beating.

Shapes jumped up onto the screen immediately. Little white lines that Alexander couldn’t really make out. Tried to find the shape of his baby in the mess. Doctor Chiswell moved the machine around a little, smearing the gel, down, down, down, until –

“Oh,” Thomas breathed out beside him, fingers snaking around Alexander’s wrist. Alexander barely noticed, his heart in his throat, because – There it was!

On the screen, it looked a lot bigger than two inches, but Alexander could quite clearly make it out. Laying down in what looked like a little bubble. Hands quite clearly curled in front of its chest, head looking a bit unproportionable to the rest of its body. From this angle, Alexander could almost see the way its nose was forming, see the way the image curved over the slope of where its eyes were forming.  Alexander stared at his little baby with his teeth in the side of his cheek.

Doctor Chiswell made a few noises, mumbling to himself. He fiddled with the keyboard a little, tilting the machine on Alexander’s belly in different angles so that the image changed slightly here and there.

“They certainly looked nice and comfy,” the doctor quipped. It broke Alexander’s concentration enough to notice Thomas’s grip on his hand and tangle their fingers together.

“Everything’s okay?” Thomas asked, tone low. He sounded undoubtedly in awe.

“Everything looks perfect. I’ll take a few snaps for you to take home. Would you like to hear the heartbeat?”

He looked back from the monitor to gaze at Alexander.

“Yes, please,” Alexander answered back, eyes flickering up to where Thomas’s face was still glued to the screen.

Doctor Chiswell fiddled with the keyboard again, other hand steady over Alexander’s stomach. When the noise finally came through the machine, Alexander was surprised by how fast it was.

He stared at the monitor, listened to the erratic thump of a noise that was so undoubtedly another person’s heartbeat. He had to suck in a breath a hold it, cotton stuck somewhere in his throat, eyes itching. This is what his baby both looked, and sounded like.

“It’s fast,” Thomas commented, sounding slightly worried.

“Which is to be expected,” The doctor answered back. “Right now, baby’s heart is beating around a hundred and forty beats per minute, which is absolutely normal. They're so tiny that they’ve got to work a little overtime.”

“Can you tell its gender?” Alexander asked, voice a little scratchy. Thomas’s thumb moved against the back of Alexander’s hand.

Doctor Chiswell shook his head. “Not currently, no. They’re still forming, and there’s a big chance you won’t know their gender until the second trimester.”

Alexander didn’t feel disappointed in the slightest.

“Will I feel it move?” Now that he’d started, Alexander had several questions that he needed answers for.

Doctor Chiswell seemed to understand. He gave Alexander an amused smile. “Not currently, no. Especially because you’re a first-time mother. But they’re still wriggling around in there. The number of weeks it’ll take before you feel any movement is different for everyone, but it can be anywhere from seventeen to twenty-five weeks. My guess is that you won’t feel anything until you’re closer to the twenty-five-week mark.”

Twenty-five weeks. Alexander tried not to feel disappointed about that one.

“Okay, when will I start to get bigger?” Thomas chuckled this time.

“Again, different for everyone. The mammary glands will start getting bigger from this point onwards, but as for your stomach, I’ll say anywhere from fifteen weeks.”

Alexander’s gaze found the monitor again, staring. Listening. His baby.

* * *

 

 Once Alexander’s stomach was clean, his jacket back on, after the doctor did a bit more fiddling, he led them back to his office and asked them to take a seat again.

He had two pieces of glossy card in his hand. Waved them around while he handed Alexander a few sheaves of paper with information about male omega pregnancies. Talked about the test results and about what Alexander was expected to do next. Explained the position of an obstetrician and why it was important for Alexander to pick one himself. After his next check-up was booked for the twentieth, Doctor Chiswell handed them both their own copy of an ultrasound picture. They said their thanks, collected their things, and by the time they were all done and exiting the building, Alexander couldn’t stop the distinct urge to hold the picture of his baby to his chest with both his hands.

It was much darker going out than it had been coming in, and when Alexander finally did look down at his watch, he saw that it was closer to eight o’clock. Which meant that his appointment had taken almost two hours. He followed Thomas down the path quietly, lagging behind just a little. Alexander had no words to break the silence. The cotton wool was back, lodged deep in his throat only, this time, it felt a little worse. Alexander hardened his jaw. Pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth to will back the tears. His chest felt tight, lungs squeezed together hard, every breath feeling like he was going to fall over some great precipice. Alexander couldn’t figure out where the emotion was coming from. Tried to squint the tears away. He wanted to sob or cough. Expel the emotion that sat tight in his sternum.

It was so much colder, Alexander noticed, although he was sure that it had less to do with the temperature and more to do with his own feelings. The crowd was thinker the closer they got to the subway. Alexander held steadfast, breathing huge gulps of air through his nose, his stomach growling. He felt like he was going to vomit.

Thomas stopped before he hit the stairs. Alexander nearly bumped into him.

“It’s late, do you –“ Alexander couldn’t see Thomas clearly; his eyes misty with tears.

“Alexander,” Thomas mumbled, his tone full of worry. Alexander bowed his head. Slapped a hand in front of his eyes. Could feel the tears rise over his eyelids and down his cheeks. He was suffocating. He couldn’t breathe. The tears were filling his throat.

A hand touched his arm, fingers digging into his jacket. Thomas got so close that Alexander could smell his cologne. A sob wrenched through him, loud and gross because it was rising so fast that Alexander couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Darlin’” Thomas’s murmured, right by his ear. Then there was an arm around him, a hand on the small of his back, and when Alexander’s cheek came into contact with Thomas’s shoulder, he dropped his hand from his face and let himself fall over the edge.

 The noise that came out of him was embarrassing. Alexander was sure that once it was over and out of his system, he wasn’t going to be able to look Thomas in the eye again for a while. He laid his head down and let his chest heave, his shoulders. Cried harder than he ever remembered crying. Felt it come from somewhere in his chest. A never-ending stream of tears that instantly soaked into Thomas’s coat.

He was aware vaguely, that there were people around. That Thomas was running a hand over his back, under his jacket. That the people passing by were probably staring at him. It didn’t stop him from crying, but when the notch in his chest lessened a bit, when he felt a tiny bit better, he shifted his cheek to the side and mumbled into Thomas’s neck.

“I… I’m fine. It’s just the baby hormones.”

Thomas chuckled, breath tickling the top of Alexander’s ear. “Sure,” He murmured, amused.

Okay, good. If they were going to joke about it, good. Alexander could handle that.

“Fuck. Sorry,” Alexander muttered, his face flushing. He needed a tissue.

Thomas hummed, squeezed him around the waist. Held on until Alexander was ready to move, which wasn’t for a good few minutes mainly because Alexander didn’t want Thomas to see how awful he looked after he’d cried so hard. When he eventually lifted his head, he slapped an arm across his face and wiped at his wet cheeks, sniffling hard.

“Your coats fucked, sorry,” He chuckled, peeling back a little. Thomas moved back slowly, dropping his hand from Alexander’s hip.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll send you the dry-cleaning bill,” Thomas laughed back. Alex grinned and dropped his arm. Gave Thomas a side-long glance.

“I’ll look out for it,” he replied sarcastically. Thomas’s lips curled up a little, a tiny little smile, but he had no reply. _What the fuck is happening,_ Alexander thought, shivering. Slipped his ultrasound photo into his little paper bag and wrapped his scarf around his neck a few times. The silence was jarring.

“You want me to call you a car?” Thomas asked quietly, hands in his coat pockets. Alexander turned to face him slightly.

“No. Thanks. I think I’ll walk.” Maybe it would clear his mind.

Thomas frowned. “Home? It’ll take you, like, forty minutes.”

Alexander shrugged. “I need the exercise, apparently. Isn’t that what the doctor said?” It wasn’t really a question. Thomas’s mouth turned down.

“No, Alexander, that’s not what he said. He said you need to put on a little weight.”

Oh. Yes. He did say that. Alexander rubbed his hand over his forehead, exhausted.

“Do you want to come to the checkup? You don’t have to. He said it wasn’t going to take very long.” Something about Down syndrome and measuring the nasal bone.

“Of course I do,” Thomas muttered as if it was obvious.

Alexander hitched his shoulders up close to his ears. All this standing around was going to make him freeze.

“Okay, great. I’ll text you then,” he said by way of parting because he had no idea what else he was supposed to say. Turned to leave back down the way they’d come, but Thomas spoke up just as he started to walk away.

“Alexander.” There was a sigh there, like Thomas was exasperated.

Alexander turned to look at him. Thomas’s expression was solemn.

“I haven’t eaten since lunch. I’m starving. Do you want to get dinner with me?” He managed to sound tired. Some of his hair had come out of it’s elastic, sticking out and curling over his ears.

The exhaustion was weighing down every part of his body. It was eight at night, and Alexander wanted to shower and go to bed, but he was also very aware of the way his stomach twisted painfully in hunger. He’d eaten half a sandwich for lunch.

“Where?”

Thomas shrugged. “We’ll find a place.”

* * *

 

 It turned out to be a tiny little middle-eastern restaurant with movie posters on the ceiling and round tables decorated with clay coloured mosaic. It was hardly busy, and there was only one person apparently manning the counter.

They chose a table by the window next to a poster of a cat in a space suit. The table here were several colours, all opaque, all light and fresh. Alexander sat by the wall, on a long wooden seat that ran a few metres long and looked like it was taken straight from a church. He could smell the lamb the moment they stepped in.

Thomas got the falafel salad, sans dressing, while Alexander went straight for the lamb stew with rice and bread. Was too tired to argue when Thomas insisted on paying for it. When they made it to the table with their food, Alexander didn’t look up from his food until he was halfway down, he was that hungry.

“Sushi?”

Thomas shrugged one shoulder.

“I thought herbal tea was good for you, though?”

Another shrug.

“You’re not helping.”

Thomas chuckled. “Your guess is as good as mine. I think it says sushi mainly because it’s raw fish.”

Alexander squinted further down the leaflet of Forbidden Food. No raw or undercooked meats, no seafood, alcohol, soft cheese or certain dairy products. Literally anything that could have bacteria in it.

“I’ve never heard of Listeria,” Thomas mumbled around a stray piece if carrot. Alexander set the leaflet down, his brows pulled down. There was even a little note about washing any fruit or vegetables before consumption.

Honestly, he didn’t think it was _that_ complicated.

“The baby’s eating what you're eating. He probably doesn’t have an immune system yet.”

Alexander ignored the ‘he’.

“Then what the hell am I supposed to eat?” Which was a stupid question, but the whole thing seemed a bit excessive.

“The falafel’s good,” Thomas muttered unhelpfully. Alexander’s face scrunched up.

“Yeah, but do you think they washed those vegetables before they cut them up?”

Thomas gave him a slightly unimpressed look. “It’s cooked, though.”

“I don’t think that matters.” Which was a lie, Alexander didn’t think it mattered either way, but he was getting a rise out of Thomas, which was always fun.

“Okay, Alexander,” he drawled condescendingly. Alexander shrugged, his lips pursued against his urge to smile.

Thomas was mostly done eating, a stray olive here or there. Alexander’s bowl was clean, having been picked off every single grain of rice. He was full, but there were a few slices of cucumber on Thomas’s plate that Alexander wanted to scoop up with his spoon. When Thomas set down his fork, Alexander slid the papers from Doctor Chiswell back into his bag. One of those papers had his due date on it.

“I think,” Thomas started slowly, “that it might be good to take care of everything before Christmas.” He phrased it like a question, but it probably wasn’t.

Alexander thought for a second. ‘Everything’ being what?

“The obstetrician?”

Thomas nodded. “There are other things.” He was talking so delicately, like he didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes. Alexander knew what he meant.

“I haven’t figured anything out yet,” Alexander sighed, He wanted to end this conversation. He wanted to go home now.

Thomas sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I don’t think that there’s anything to figure out. You can’t fit a crib in your apartment, Alexander. Where the hell is it going to go?”

And it was true. As much as Alexander hated it, it was true. Even if he got rid of his desk and the potted plants by the window, he wasn’t going to fit in everything he needed.

Alexander sighed, a little exasperated. “I’ll get somewhere bigger.”

“And what about me?” Thomas sat forward and placed his palms on the table top. “This is my kid too, remember? Do I get a say in where he lives?” His tone was defensive, hard. It made Alexander angry, his face twisting up into a scowl.

Like striking a match to a house covered in kerosene. How easy it was for them to fall into a heated argument.  

“Fuck off, Thomas. What do you want me to do? Did you think there was going to be an easy answer to this?”

Thomas’s hands formed fists on the table. “There would be if you were willing to stop being so difficult all the time.” His tone was still condescending. Like he was talking to a child.

“I’m sorry, Thomas,” Alexander ground out, “that I can’t be as fucking amazing and as intelligent as you. Unfortunately, we’re not all saints.”

“Can you take this seriously, Alexander? For one second?”

Alexander scoffed. “What the fuck you think I’ve been doing?” He knew this his voice was starting to rise. There was soft piano playing over the speakers, but it wasn’t enough to muffle out their arguing.

Thomas looked annoyed. His arms were folded tight across his chest, his posture rigid.Alexander tried not to be mad, but his hands started to shake. Wanted to say something about blame. About how Thomas put him in this mess.

“You know what would make this easier, Alexander?” Thomas’s voice a little more serious at this. Alexander didn’t want to hear it; didn’t care. “If I thought, for a second, that I could ever stand being in a relationship with you. If I thought literally anyone could manage that.”

Alexander’s throat burned. Thomas’s voice rose with each word that came out of his mouth.

“You have to be a righteous little _fuck_ about everything, don’t you? You can’t just put aside your ego for a second and work with me? You don’t think I’d pick literally _anyone_ else to be in this situation with?”

And that last one caught him up so much that Alexander almost lost his words. It was mean, and it _burnt._ He didn’t want it to. He wanted to ignore it, be better than that, point out that he felt the exact same way, but, for a reason he could not find, it _hurt._ He was _not_ a hard person to be in a relationship with, Thomas Jefferson was just an unbearable asshole.

“You're so fucking generous for considering it, though,” Alexander muttered. Thomas stared at him, his face raw with anger. He lifted his hand up to rub his forehead.

“I can’t even insinuate that I have just as much say in this as you before you start getting mad and defensive. What do you think I’m going to do, Alexander? You think I’m going to run away with our kid?” Thomas’s tone turned lower. Started to sound like he was losing the motivation to continue.

“Ah, pardon me.” Thomas’s eyes flickered up to the man from behind the counter, standing in front of their table with an annoyed expression. Alexander kept his eyes somewhere over Thomas’s shoulder, glaring a hole into the way.

“Can I get you guys anything else?” He made for the empty dishes on the table.

Thomas sighed. “No. Thanks,” he muttered, voice low, scratchy. He sounded tired.

Once the man disappeared back behind the counter with the plates, Thomas stood from the table. Alexander shifted, pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and blotted out the light. Listened to Thomas dress himself back up for the cold.

“Let me take care of the obstetrician. I have a few friends who know where to look.”

Alexander sighed, fingers clenching around the strands of hair that fell from his elastic. He wanted to argue, but it wasn’t like Thomas was asking. Besides, one of them had to take care of it, and if it was Thomas, then it was a thing that Alexander didn’t have to think about.

“Whatever,” he muttered to the air. Listened to Thomas sigh, before the door opened and closed.

Alexander sat there with his fingers pressed against his face until his eyes started to hurt.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise bitch, I bet you thought you'd seen the last of me!
> 
> Yes, I do indeed know that it is not Friday, but the reason I am posting this chapter is because I feel shitty for missing a post in December. So here it is! Also, Friday's chapter is still on, but it will be a late one! I have a work party. 
> 
> (Guys, thank you so, so much for the love. Artemis and I are very thankful, even if we don't know any of you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!) As well, your comments always make me smile. I feel like I can't thank you enough! For someone to just say that they look forward to reading it, or when they give me advice on things that I get wrong, makes me so, so thankful! I really do appreciate it! (MUST REMEMBER: bar, not pub!)
> 
> I don't want to write too much here, but I will say this: I sure as hell ain't dwelling on anything anatomy wise when it comes down to birthing or whatever because Alexander has a dick and fuck that.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for a character talking about a stillborn birth! Heads up!

 “Who did this?” Was John’s greeting when he finally settled on the bed next to Alexander.

Alexander himself, case file in hand, had barely looked up from it when he’d opened the door. Laying back on the mountains of pillows on his bed, a foil packet of chips in between his legs.

John shimmied so that he was squeezed between Alexander and the wall. Laid on his side against a pillow, finger tapping against Alexander’s thumbnail. It was painted rosy pink.

“Peggy,” Alexander mumbled, brows scrunched together. He’d found himself swamped with work over the last week. Had to make a visit to the same school, for the same child, within the span of three days, which was cause for a few appointments to be shifted around. An interview regarding an adoption that hadn't gone quite as planned. By the end of the day, Alexander was tired and in need of a rest. Peggy had stopped by on Wednesday evening, insisting that she give Alexander a back rub and do his nails if it was going to make him feel better.

“It’s eight at night, you asshat, give it a rest,” John sighed, ripping the paper from his hands. Alexander startled a little, making grabby hands at it.

“John, come on.” He grabbed the bag of chips and let them drop over the side of the bed. Got up to pour himself a glass of water from the tap.

“Are you in a shitty mood?” John asked. His shoes made a thud on the ground where he toed them off.

Yes, Alexander was in a bit of a shitty mood, but he wasn’t about to admit it.

“I thought you were going out tonight,” he quipped. Turned to lean his back against the sink. John had made himself comfortable in the duvet.

“Yeah, later. I’m waiting for Laf to call me. I thought _you_ were going out tonight?”

Eliza had called him after work, begging him to hang out. Her argument had been that it was a Friday, it was cold and that Ariana, one of the barkeepers, kept making comments about how she missed poking fun at him. Alexander hadn’t replied to any of her messages, despite how many there were, mainly because they were stupid and horribly misspelt, and he didn’t want to kill her fun with his sour mood. Her last message had been her attempt at subtly telling him that Thomas was there. So, no thanks.

“Don’t feel like it,” Alexander muttered into his glass. John looked annoyed.

“Mate, you never feel like it.”

Alexander shrugged. “Laf’s calling?” He asked, because it was always easy to change the subject if it was about John’s boyfriend.

“Hm. Soon. He’s still at work, but he’s got some time. Get over here.” John pulled the duvet back and motioned to the unoccupied space on the bed. Alexander sighed and set his glass down.

He couldn’t help it though. The smile flittered across his face before he could help it. Climbed into the bed next to John and shoved one of the spare pillows in between his thighs as she shifted to lay on his side.

John glowered. “Don’t make fun of me, you asshole.”

Alexander laughed. That’s all it was now, with John. Anytime someone laughed or grinned in his direction, it was all ‘don’t laugh at me, don’t look at me, don’t make fun of me’.

“I’m not laughing,” Alexander mumbled. “I just think it’s unfair that all the good shit is happening to you. Where’s _my_ break, huh? I’d love to have someone tell me they love me.”

Maybe he was expecting John to get cagey about it, because most of the time he did. Instead, John laughed and flopped over onto his stomach.

“You snooze, you lose, sucker.”

Alexander chuckled and closed his eyes. How tempting it was to fall asleep right now. It would be easy to convince John to stay. Set up the projector on the wall, plug his laptop in, stick a stupid movie on. Maybe a sad one, just so he could watch John try to hold back his tears. Dead Poets Society or something boring like that. Cuddle up on the bed with the duvet, like they used to when Alexander would successfully sneak John into his dormitory in college. He missed that.

The silence, the calm, was nice until John snuck a hand into the blanket and poked at Alexander’s ribs. Alexander jumped, wriggled away.

“Mate, no, you’re not doing that to me.”

Alexander chuckled. “I’m awake,” was his muffled answer. He fidgeted a little, rubbing his front into the sheets. His chest was starting to itch.

“Are you sick?” John asked. Alexander opened an eye to look at him.

“No?”

John squinted. “Don’t lie to me, Ham.”

Alexander frowned. “Why would I be sick?”

“You’re like, so out of it all the time. And Eliza said you had a doctor’s appointment or something. Herc was worried about it, but she wouldn’t say anything.”

Oh, shit. Thanks, Eliza.

“No, I’m fine,” Alexander muttered. Rubbed his face into the pillow before he rolled to lay on his back. He rubbed his feet together, feeling antsy, too much pent-up energy. “It was just a check-up.”

“What’s wrong?”

 _Nothing_ , Alexander wanted to mutter. Make up some lie about how he had a cold. The only thing was that, most of the time, he wasn’t a good liar. And more than that, he hated doing it anyway. Alexander had been trying to play his cards right. Knew that there were people to tell and that he had to do it delicately.

But telling Catherine and Phillip and girls who were practically his sisters was different to telling John and Hercules. Alexander couldn’t predict how they were going to act.

Alexander heaved a sigh. “Don’t tell Herc.”

John perked up, grin in place. “Woah, tell me!” 

“And you can’t laugh.” Or maybe he could. Maybe that would make it easier.

“Fuck off, you’ve been laughing at me ever since you met my boyfriend. I’ll laugh all I want.”

Alexander chuckled. Rubbed at his face with both hands and kept them there, breathing in between the spaces in his hands. He snuck a peek at John through his fingers.

“I’ve been seeing someone,” he started. He couldn’t really see the expression on John’s face with his hands over his eyes.

John was quiet for a second. “Like, seriously?”

 _Actually, wait,_ Alexander thought, backtracking. “No,  sorry, it was just casual.” Alexander let his hands drop. John was smiling a little.

“Okay, and? Who?”

Alexander contemplated his answer. “And, I wasn’t – we weren’t as careful as we should’ve been.” He ignored the second question.

John’s brows pulled down. “Alex, what are you telling? Are you sick? Did you get something?”

Alexander groaned. “No, no. No, I’m fine. I’m not _sick._ I’m…” He stuttered off. John’s expression was intense, genuine worry on his face. Alexander pulled the blanket back and got up. Rummaged around in his desk drawer by the window until he found the picture. John shifted so that he was sitting, back against the wall.

“Don’t tell Herc,” Alexander pleaded. Hercules was going to _destroy_ him.

“Alex, just tell me.” John’s tone took on an edge.

Alexander climbed back into the bed next to him. His heart was just about to beat out of his chest. His fingers felt like they were shaking along with his nerves. He handed John the picture, face down. Fidgeted with the duvet as John took it from him. Turned it around to look. Alexander’s gaze found the duvet and stayed there.

The silence festered. It was long and agonizing. John was quiet for a very long time. Alexander stayed stock still, staring at the watercolour pattern of his cover. He tried to take deep breathes, to calm his nerves just a little. This wasn’t a friendship breaker or anything. He knew he needed to calm down.

“This is a baby,” John said. He wasn’t surprised or mad. He sounded confused. Alexander looked up and caught John’s questioning look.

“Yup,” he muttered, his fingernails digging into his palms.

John looked back down at the picture. “This is your baby?’ He asked.

Alexander nodded.

John didn’t take his eyes off the picture for a few seconds more.

“Okay. Okay. "He drew the ‘a’ out like he was responding to a poorly made joke. “Okay, Ham.”

And then he laughed. Alexander watched as John went from chuckling to something bigger, louder, like he was genuinely amused. Alexander snatched the picture from John’s hand and frowned.

“You’re fucked, Ham,” John laughed. So loud that he had to hold his sides. 

“I know. I already know, Jack.”

“Are you fucking with me right now? Are you fucking with me? Whose baby is this?”

There were little tears starting to form in John’s eyes. This was getting ridiculous.

Alexander got back off the bed. Put the picture back in the drawer and reached for his glass of water again. For some reason, he really didn’t feel like taking this as a joke. He turned and leaned back against the kitchen cabinets. Watched John wheeze and curl into a ball.

“Oh, shit. Oh, shit,” John chuckled. Wiped at his face a little. “Really?”

Alexander sighed. “Really.”

John stared at him, teeth digging into his bottom lip. He rummaged around under the covers until he had his phone in hand.

“What are you doing?” Alexander asked. Watched him fiddle around a little bit. John’s phone beeped a few times, held up in front of his face. Then there was the sound of rustling and a voice over the speaker.

“Hi, baby,” came Lafayette’s distinct French accent. It was muffled slightly and echoed, like he was in some big room.

“Laf, Alexander's trying to convince me he's pregnant!” John called, laughing again. Alexander sputtered, almost dropping his glass.

“John!” He hissed, glaring. John gave him a shrug over his phone.

“But you can’t tell Herc,” he tacked on. Like it even mattered. Alexander crawled onto the bed next to John, just out of line with the phone.

“Shut up, you idiot,” Alexander growled. Pulled a pillow out from the covers and shoved it in John’s face. John cackled, his phone falling somewhere in the sheets. Alexander paid no mind to Lafayette’s frantic, muffled voice. He shoved the pillow so hard into John’s face that they both fell back, John’s head narrowly missing the corner of the bedside drawers.

“Don’t, John. What the fuck,” Alexander ground out. He was only half joking. He couldn’t imagine Lafayette was about to spill the news to anyone else. At the same time, it was his business.

“Get off me, you fucker,” John yelled through the pillow, arms flailing around. His arms caught Alexander across the cheek, and once he realised it, he reached out and grabbed a handful of loose hair. Yanked hard, pain across Alexander’s scalp as he was pulled left.

Alexander cursed, releasing his grip on the pillow to grab at John’s wrist. Dug his fingernails in until John loosened his grip. A knee caught him in the thigh, and Alexander pulled back as far as he could. Snatched the pillow so that he could hit John in the face one last time. John emerged from the covers, a grin splitting his face, cheeks red, hair askew. Alexander flipped him the finger before he picked out John’s phone from the sheets and threw it at John.

“Sweetheart, relax. Laf’s not going to tell anyone,” He laughed, turning the phone around so that he could see the screen.

“I don’t care, John. You literally just did what I asked you not to do,” Alexander huffed. He crawled over until he was sitting next to John. Shoved an elbow into his side, that John ignored.

“Laf doesn’t count,” John muttered. They both stared at the screen, where Alexander could see a large oak cupboard and nothing else.

“Ah, Laf?” John called. There was a scratching sound, and then Lafayette’s face appeared from the right, a big smile on his face.

“Yup, I’m here!” He called. He had his hair neatly tied back, a thick pair of black glasses over his eyes. The shot was wide enough that Alexander could see that he was wearing a bowtie. _A bowtie!_

“Holy fucking hell,” Alexander groaned, rolling down and away until he had his head on John’s knees, almost falling off the side of the bed. John lowered the phone and gave him a weird look.

“Ignore Alexander, he’s being weird,” John laughed, shaking his leg so that Alexander rolled away from him. “Are you busy?”

Lafayette laughed. “Give him a rest, my love. He is having a baby, it can’t be easy.”

Alexander perked up a little, frowning. That… Didn’t sound like news. Lafayette sounded like it was already common knowledge. He crawled up the bed a little until he was close enough to tilt John’s phone down.

“You knew, or…?”

Lafayette had his eyes down like his attention was also elsewhere, but he flashed a grin as he spoke.

“Oh, yes, Thomas told me a couple of days ago. Congratulations, Alexander!”

Wait, _what?_

“What?” John echoed out loud, pulling his phone from Alexander’s hand. “Thomas? Thomas knows?” He looked at Alexander. “You told _Thomas_ before you told me?” He sounded genuinely appalled.

“John…” came Lafayette’s placating voice over the speaker.

Alexander squared his jaw. This wasn’t the information that he wanted John to know just yet. He was aware of how much shit he was about to get from him and Hercules both. He wasn't currently in the mood to deal with that.

“It was an accident, John, relax,” Alexander sighed, slumping against the wall. Lafayette gave him a small grin over the phone. Almost like he was apologizing. “Thomas told you? Why?”

John didn’t seem to want to let it go. “Thomas knew before I did. How did you _accidentally_ tell him that you were pregnant?”

Lafayette ignored him, but Alexander caught the way John’s face twisted up. “Yes, he did. I’m sorry if that’s not what you wanted. We are very close, so we do talk quite a lot." 

“Yeah, but, why would he care? Are you two fucking with me?” John asked, his head whipping around. He had a weird expression on his face. Distrustful. 

“Yes, John, it’s true. Come on, man, I’m not going to lie about this. Where’d you think I got the ultrasound picture from?” He paused for a second. “Can we drop this now?”

Lafayette smiled. “Good idea,” he called. Alexander looked at John, though, he didn’t look like he was ready to drop it.

“Who’s this guy, then? The one you’ve been seeing? Do I know him?”

Alexander looked at him. Frowned, sighed quietly. He couldn’t lie about this. He couldn’t tell a blatant lie. It was going to bite him in the ass once John actually found out.

"Not now, John, please. Later, I promise," He pleaded. John gave him a look that Alexander interpreted as disgust, or something close to. 

"Anyway," came Lafayette's voice. "Are you going to tell me how you've been? I've been so busy, I'm sorry that I haven't been able to talk much as of late."

Alexander was thankful for that. John stared at him just a little longer before he dropped it. Was still frowning when he looked back at his phone. It gave Alexander an exit, at least. He got up from the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. Locked the door behind him, leaned against it. It was chillier in here, refreshing. His cheeks felt like they were about to catch fire.

As if that wasn’t totally transparent. As if John didn’t know now. Alexander rubbed a hand over his face in frustration. He wanted to be as far away from this situation as possible. Nevermind that John was going to find out anyway, but Alexander desired nothing more than to get away with it for as long as he could. Thought that maybe if it was more obvious, if he was showing more, then Hercules and John wouldn’t make that much more of a big deal about it.

Alexander braced himself against the door, just for something to do. Could hear John’s voice, but not his words. Wondered if he was mad. Alexander shuffled over to the toilet. Put the lid down and sat on it, chin in his hands. Leaned all his weight there and just grumbled.

John didn’t have a right to be mad about this, it didn’t concern him. John liked Thomas less than Alexander did, and Hercules was probably somewhere in the middle. This was a lifelong thing now. Hercules would tease him about it. Put out all the stops. Make him regret making the mistake But John… John was going to brood. Wasn't going to quite understand that it had been out of Alexander's hands. 

Alexander gave it ten minutes. Could still hear John talking when he approached the door. He flicked the light off as he went. Ignored John sitting in the exact same place he had been. Opened the fridge and pulled a green apple from the crisper just to do something with his hands. He took a knife from a drawer, set a cutting board down and started to de-core it, his back to the bed. John’s voice was quiet, but Alexander heard him mumble a timid ‘I love you too’ before there was nothing. Didn’t catch any response from Lafayette, only silence. Alexander set his brows into a permanent grimace, eyes on his mutilated apple.

“Okay,” John mumbled behind him. Alexander didn’t turn around.

“I won’t mention it. Whatever.” John paused. “Come hang out with us tonight.” His tone was light. Alexander turned enough so that he could give John a side-long glance.

“Until when?”

“What?”

Alexander sighed. “When are you going to choose to give me shit about it?” He turned his back to the counter. John was leaning against the wall, phone face down in his hand. Alexander had to stare a second at John’s sincere expression

“Look, it’s freaking me out a bit. Or a lot. But I won’t. We’ll drop it.” John shrugged. A crease formed between his eyes. He stretched his legs out until his feet were almost dangling off the edge. "I can hardly give you shit about it, anyway. It's not like I've done much better. I plan on keeping Lafayette as long as he'll let me. You're going to have a baby. With someone we will not name. Same thing."

Alexander piled a few pieces of apple into his hand and made his way over. Crawled until he was sitting next to John, back to the wall. He chewed on a piece of apple, quiet. Nott what he'd expected. Not what he'd expected at all. 

"That's nice," he muttered. John looked at him.

"What is?"

Alexander waited until he'd swallowed the piece in his mouth. "That you love him that much. That you want to commit to it."

Alexander turned to meet his gaze and smile. John puffed out his cheeks just a little. Trying to hide his embarrassment, maybe.

“Put a movie on,” John muttered. 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

John shuffled off the bed and grabbed Alexander’s laptop from his desk. Opened it on his way back. “Not if you’re not coming with me. I want to hang out with _you.”_

Alexander smiled. “You’re going to let me ruin the fun?”

John elbowed him. “Shut up, you _are_ the fun. Unfortunately.”

"Are we going to stay up and talk about boys?"

"Shut your mouth, Hamilton." 

Alexander's shitty mood was nowhere to be found after that.

* * *

Angelica was already sitting on one of the sofas by the heater when Alexander arrived. He was running a little late. Couldn’t understand why it had taken him so long to find his keys in his tiny room. He got in and ordered an Americano, couldn’t remember the name of the guy behind the counter despite how many time he came here a week. Angelica gave him a pointed look when he took the seat next to her.

“Relax,” he muttered, beating her to it. “I haven’t had a single coffee in a week. Let me have this.”

Her lips turned down, but she didn’t say anything. She had her iPad in her lap. Looked very laid back in tights and a t-shirt a size too big. She’d mentioned yoga after.

Alexander closed his eyes and groaned. Leaned back in the armchair and let himself sink into the cushion. It was a lazy Sunday and Alexander was bored.

“How is it?” Angelica asked. He’d asked her to come, mainly because Peggy didn’t want to get out of bed until at least one, and Alexander was pulling his hair out with boredom.

“I was so annoyed last night, I started looking at baby clothes online,” Alexander grumbled, slumped right back in his seat. It had been Eliza and Peggy that had inspired that. Couldn’t help himself once he’d opened the gift they gave him and saw that it was a pair of customized jumpsuits with “I love Auntie Peggy’ and ‘Auntie Eliza is my favourite’. Lame. Cute, but lame. Alexander had sent them a thank you text in the midst of figuring out where he put them for now.

Had settled on stuffing the box underneath his bed for now.

Angelica was smiling. “That’s nice. You should definitely do that. I think that was my favourite bit in the first couple of months.”

Alexander chuckled. It _was_ fun. Or it had passed the time like he’d intended it to do. It was strange for him to look at different styles of clothing and try to imagine _his_ baby wearing it.

“Did you find a few that you liked?”

“Hm. Is it too early to buy them?” Alexander shrugged. There’d been one. A tiny, tiny frock, pale blue, pleated just a little so that it flowed. He’d had to talk himself out of buying it almost three times, and the last time only worked because he’d shut his laptop and left it sitting on his desk.

“Absolutely not!” Angelica laughed, her expression shifting into something radiant. Alexander grinned. “No, no, it’s never too early to do anything. In fact.” Here, she moved her iPad to the table and sat forward, hand soft on Alexander’s knee. “I highly recommend you get in all your shopping as soon as possible. Sonner or later, you’re going to be so big, you can’t see your toes, and you’re going to hate anything that involves too much thinking.”

She looked so open, so happy. Alexander’s chest warmed. _Thank you, Angelica,_ he thought, so, so grateful.

“And there’s always so much to buy. Even if you think it’s simple, it’s really not.” Angelica sat back and eyed him. “Which bears the question, where is it all going to go. Is there a plan?”

Is there a plan? Okay, obviously moving out was a given, considering his apartment was the size of a walk-in closet.

“Not yet. I’ve got to talk to Thomas about it, I suppose.” He ignored Angelica’s raised eyebrow. He hadn’t spoken to Thomas in almost a fortnight. Since the appointment.

“You’ve not spoken about it at all?” Angelica asked. _Don’t lecture me,_ Alexander almost groaned.

Instead, he said, “well, a little. He’s taking care of the obstetrician.” Which was placating enough he guessed, by Angelica’s nod.

“I spoke to him Friday night,” she started, a slight smile on her face, one corner of her mouth tilted up. “It was kind of cute.”

Alexander grimaced. “What does that even mean?” He asked. His leg was starting to burn where it was so close to the heater.

“He’s excited,” Angelica sighed. She brought her cup up to her mouth and took a sip. Alexander rolled his eyes.

“No, he’s not,” he muttered. Angelica chuckled.

“It was very subtle.”

“Ang, no.”

“Why not?” She looked a little _too_ amused.

“It’s an inconvenience,” Alexander groaned. For some reason, he felt slightly guilty for saying it. For thinking it.

“Now. It is now. It won’t be later. You only just found out. Wait until you start showing. It’ll be all you and Thomas can think about.” She sounded so excited.

“This isn’t like you and John, Angelica. Thomas and I aren’t married.” He bit his lip, hating his own words.

Angelica didn’t seem fazed though. “I don’t really think that’s going to matter.”

Alexander wanted to point out that this was different in every sense. That it was an accident. They hadn’t been trying and trying. It wasn’t a collective decision. Alexander _still_ didn’t want kids.

Alexander cleared his throat. “We’ll see,” he murmured. He was trying not to feel so dejected. Sometimes he was excited, most times he wasn’t. Most times he was lost.

“And what about where you’ll live?” Alexander picked up his glass and looked at her. “I suppose you and Thomas will live together.” She phrased it like a question, completely unsure. Alexander could sympathize with her.

He had considered it. Thomas had hinted at it.

“We’ll have to, I guess,” he mumbled, frowning. It was a horrible thought, and not because of any stint Alexander had against Thomas. Rather, the idea had never crossed his mind, and it just seemed absurd. Alexander liked having his own space. Didn’t want to share any of it with anyone. Even the idea of sharing an apartment with one of his friends, like John and Hercules, wasn’t the slightest bit appealing. It was hard for him to think about giving up his own freedom like that.

But it was obvious that this wasn’t going to work unless he made that sacrifice. The last thing Alexander was going to do was shunt his son or daughter from place to place just because he and Thomas lived separately

Angelica sat back and nodded. She looked delighted, really.

Alexander hummed and took another sip of his coffee, lips turned down into a frown. What a mess this was. Alexander wondered briefly if there was going to be a time when he didn’t feel that way.

“Did Eliza and Peggy give you their gift?” Angelica asked. Alexander chuckled.

“Yeah. I couldn’t tell whether they were trying to be funny, or sincere.” Angelica hummed.

“Sincere. They’re very excited.” She gave Alexander a look though. Sympathetic. She set down her drink and brought a large tote bag out from under the table. “Which reminds me…”

She trailed off to push the bag towards Alexander. “I wanted to give this to you. If you want it. I didn’t keep all of it, and obviously, it’s never been used. It’s all new-born stuff.”

Oh.

Alexander picked at the bag. Brought it to his lap and stared inside. Clothes. Baby clothes. Jumpsuits, a pair of socks still in a packet, tiny, tiny shoes. These were Jonathon’s clothes.

“There for a boy. John and I only went clothes shopping once we knew the gender, but I didn’t think you’d care too much about it.”

No, Alexander didn’t, but there was something a little unsettling about dressing his baby up in the clothes of Angelica’s stillborn. Alexander shifted through it a little, but he was nervous. Wondered if Angelica would be offended if he declined.

“Are you sure?” He asked, voice small. Her expression did mirror his; she was smiling.

“I am,” she sighed. “I thought about it. For some time, I didn’t think I could. And obviously the implication isn’t great, so you can do what you like with it all. Keep them, throw them away.” She leaned forward. “I’ve moved on from it all, Alexander. I’m not having another baby and I’m okay with that. I don’t need them anymore.”

A nervous expression flittered across her face then; hands fidgeted in front of her. Alexander set the bag down and took one of them. It took a second. A few seconds. Like she was trying to fight it. But, like a sudden sun shower, Alexander watched her face shift from one emotion, to another completely on the other end of the spectrum. Tears welled in her eyes, fell down her cheeks immediately. She tried not to sniffle, but it was futile.

“Angelica…”

She raised a hand to quiet him, her head bowed.

“Let me say this,” she murmured, squeezing his hand. “I’m over it. John and I are past trying again. I think the effort would kill me.” She looked up then, her face wet. Looked at him so deeply. “I’m your sister, and I want to help you in this. I want to do what I can. I fear that you’ll back out from telling me things because you’re afraid of how it’ll affect me. I really don’t want you to do that. I want you to share this with me, and no failed experience that I’ve had with my own pregnancy is going to stop me from being a part of this.”

Alexander felt something in his throat catch, like pieces of cotton. Felt something, like a great weight, lift from his shoulders. Like breathing afresh. Pulled Angelica’s hand to his mouth and kissed it softly, eyes closed, brimming with feelings. He had to sit there for a few minutes with his hands around hers, pressed all to his face, just to hold back his own tears. Kept still, breathed, tried to find the words to thank her. 

* * *

 

 He got the text from Thomas on Monday afternoon. Asked if they could meet quickly to discuss the obstetrician.

Alexander wanted to point out that they would see each other tomorrow for the appointment, but it was a Monday, his second last day at work before Christmas, and Alexander was past caring. Met Thomas at a Starbucks a few blocks from his work. Sipped his tea while Thomas went through a list of three appointments he’d been able to make.

“We’ll have to make a decision quickly, we’re a bit late in the running and an obstetrician can only take on a certain amount of people. I’ve already asked Doctor Chiswell for the referrals.”

“Great,” Alexander replied, distracted, eyes on the piece of paper. The first on the list was an appointment for January seven, a Friday, at two thirty. A woman by the name of Syalla Audrey, beta.

“And, ah, how much do they cost?” He asked, trying to sound casual. He’d started a list the other night; stuff he needed to pay for, stuff he needed to invest in.

Thomas sighed. “They all range in between five and six grand.”

Okay, fuck.

Alexander nodded.

Thomas didn’t seem to want to stick around after that. Gave Alexander a terse “tomorrow, then” and made to get up, when it was clear that Alexander didn’t have any other questions.

“Another thing,” Alexander called, setting the list on the table. He said it with a resigned tone. Thomas gave him a look, half settled back into his seat.

Alexander dug his fingernails into each other. “We need to think about, ah, finding somewhere.” How did he phrase it properly? How did he phrase it without making it more painful on himself?

“Finding somewhere for what?” Thomas asked, but Alexander knew he’d caught on.

“Obviously we have to find somewhere to live,” he muttered sarcastically. Thomas’s face immediately morphed into something like delight.

“That was easy,” he chuckled. Alexander scowled.

“Shut up, I like where I live. I had to come to terms with it.”

“Because you can barely fit yourself in there? Let alone a crib?” Thomas muttered. Alexander ignored him. Thomas shifted so that he was sitting more directly in his seat.

“You know why this will be a problem, right?” Thomas asked. _Besides the obvious?_ Alexander thought.

“You sound like you’ve thought about this.”

Thomas folded his arms in front of him and leaned forward. “I have. The problem is that I like where I live. I’m not interested in moving somewhere up north or far away from work just because it’s cheaper.”

Fuck. Money. It was always going to be about money now, wasn’t it? In terms of income, Alexander and Thomas were on completely different ends.

Alexander sat back in his chair and sighed. “Well, then I have some pretty shitty news for you. I have no interest in sharing a room with you, and you know that I’m not a rich fuck like you are.”

Thomas chuckled. He looked too amused. Alexander grimaced. He wanted Thomas to take this seriously.

“Let me take care of it.”

Those words again. Let Thomas take care of it, he obviously had the cash for it. This was where Alexander put his foot down. He was not into accepting handouts. He wasn’t going to slack on rent.

“No,” he said with finality. Not happening.

Thomas grin didn’t falter though. “Alexander, I’m not budging on this. Do want you like. Pay as much rent as you can, do the grocery shopping, I don’t know. We’re talking about a three-bedroom apartment. You think that’s going to be cheap anyway?”

“Yes, somewhere. I’ll look. You’re going to have to give _something_ up.”

Thomas’s grin _did_ falter then, his brows shooting up. “More than I already will be?” He asked.

Alexander chewed his tongue. Opened his mouth to retort, but Thomas cut him off.

“I’m not doing you any favours, Alexander. I’m not trying to make you feel like shit. We’re having a baby together. This is going to be forever, you know that, right? There are things you won’t be able to pay for. We still have so many doctor visits to make, and what about when you go back to work? We’ll have to put him in a nursery. I’m not trying to invalidate you, I just want you to both be okay. You can’t tell me that you’re willing to live with the bare minimum just because you can’t afford more.”

Alexander set his jaw, his teeth clicking together, a hard frown on his face. Thomas glanced at his watch. Alexander wanted to spout out all of the angry arguments that were tunnelling through his head. Start by saying that he’d lived with the bare minimum his whole life, and that there was nothing wrong with that, that Thomas was just privileged.

“I have to go,” Thomas said to the silence. Alexander’s gaze was somewhere near Thomas’s paper coffee cup. “Do what you like, Alexander. Have a look yourself. Decide what place you like, and we’ll have a look, but I’m having this. You're giving this decision to me.”

 He collected his things quietly. Coat, scarf, bag, a quiet “see you tomorrow” and left Alexander sitting there, still frowning.

 


	10. Chapter 10

From a certain point that Alexander couldn’t pinpoint, time started to feel a little different. It didn’t feel like it should’ve. Every moment seemed to be a countdown to something out of Alexander’s control, and always, always related to the baby.

Christmas and the New Year came and went without much fanfare. He’d spent it in Albany like he always did. Spent half of his time off stressing about telling Catherine and Phillip about the baby, and the other half hiding in his room when he couldn’t find the courage. Got back home feeling weak and tired and _done._ Had to wonder if he was always going to be this exhausted.

He was showing, now.

He had a baby bump now.

It wasn’t big, and honestly, Alexander hadn’t really known what to expect, so he wasn’t always really looking for it. He'd been so in the midst of pulling his own hair out that it was only by the fourth, when he was stepping out of the shower and drying himself, did he even really catch it.

A bump right there on his lower stomach. Hard when he pressed into it slightly. The skin there was slightly discoloured; darker than the rest of him. Almost just looked like he ate a little too much. Big enough that Alexander could only just do up the button of his slacks for work. It had been such a shock that Alexander ended up being late for work that day. Lost track of time getting dressed, his hands on his stomach, his thoughts elsewhere. He found himself switching between being thankful and disappointed that it wasn’t noticeable when he was dressed.

When Thomas first saw him after the Christmas holidays, in a little office on Lexington Avenue, he’d given Alexander a strange look. Even without the sweater on, which Alexander didn’t shed anyway because it was so cold, there was no way to see it. No way to know. He walked in, hunched over, covered in snow, let the lady behind the desk take his coat and scarf and hang it up. Sat next to Thomas with a sigh. Didn’t look at him, didn’t say anything, but when Thomas asked if he was okay, he’d given Alexander a weird little frown. Alexander ignored it and grunted.

* * *

 

 Syalla Audrey was very tall and very beautiful. Spoke with a very prominent South African accent and had straight, black hair that descended all the down her back. When she came out to greet the both of them, she gave them a very big smile and congratulations. Led them into her office and told them to take a seat.

Alexander didn’t know what to expect from an obstetrician. Didn’t know the difference between that and a midwife. Didn’t know what he was supposed to do. She was very friendly about everything, and the office was much cosier than he’d been expecting. Once she’d mentioned that she had all the details from Doctor Chiswell, Thomas jumped in. Sounded like he’d written a list of questions that Alexander felt like he should’ve been asking, himself. Things about scheduled appointments and possible complications in the future. Hospital options and how they went about it when it was time for Alexander to give birth; despite how far away that was. Syalla Audrey was obviously a very cut and dry doctor. Told them that she didn’t believe in bringing up a complication until there was evidence of one. Thought that Alexander was very healthy and that there was nothing unusual from his last two check-ups. Explained that there was very little to worry about. Alexander got the sense that maybe she was more like a coach. She’d do his check-ups, give him the advice he’d need, walk him through it, deliver his baby.

By the end of the whole thing, Alexander had no idea why he even needed to come. It probably took no more than fifteen minutes, and Alexander felt stupid not having any questions to ask her afterwards. When Syalla bid them goodbye and returned to her office, Alexander gave Thomas a dirty look.

“What?”

“I took the rest of the day off work for _that_?”

He excused himself to go to the bathroom after Thomas’s “she might be delivering your baby, Alexander, it’s important”. Accepted his coat and scarf back with a smile. Prepped himself back up for the impending snowstorm that was brewing outside. Wasn’t expecting Thomas to still be there.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket when Alexander appeared again. Waited while Alexander got dressed.

“I ordered a car,” Thomas said, and Alexander turned his back just so he could roll his eyes.

“Okay,” Alexander muttered back.

“And, I, ah…” Alexander looked back at him. Caught his uncomfortable expression.

“I have something for you. From my mother.”

Not what Alexander expected. He shuffled his bag onto his back and frowned.

“What?”

“I told her about the baby. She insisted on getting you something. A Christmas present, I suppose.”

Alexander almost laughed. That had to be one of the wildest things he’d ever heard. Thomas Jefferson’s mother had a gift for him. Sweet.

“You’re mum got me a present? Have I met her?”

Thomas gave him a nonplussed look. “She’s sick. She was excited when I told her she was going to have a grandkid.”

Alexander started to fidget. “That’s nice,” he said sincerely. “Where is it?”

Thomas shook his head. “It’s big. I left it at home. Come get it and I’ll order you an Uber.”

Alexander heaved a sigh. It wasn’t even three yet; he didn’t have plans to go home. Figured he may as well go back to work.

“Can’t you just…” Alexander started. _I can order my own Uber thanks,_ he thought bitterly.

“It’s a giant ass box, Alexander. It won’t take long.”

Okay, admittedly, there was a little bit of curiosity there. He appreciated when people got him gifts, but this was just weird, and by the expression on his face, Thomas was thinking the same thing.

“Alright,” Alexander muttered. Followed Thomas out into the cold.

 

The snow was so thick once they got out of the car, that Alexander nearly fell over the curb. He followed Thomas to the elevator, tossing out a “hi, Sam” to the doorman, to which was returned with a warm smile.

“You know him?” Thomas asked once the doors closed. Alexander shrugged.

“He works mornings on the weekends.”

Thomas gave him a weird look.

“You know,” Alexander clarified, “when I’m usually leaving…”

The apartment was dark when they got in. Alexander grumbled at Thomas’s indignant “take your shoes off, please” and shoved them against the closet by the front door. Slipped his backpack off his shoulders but didn’t bother with the rest considering he wasn’t planning on staying long. Followed Thomas down the hall, lights switching on as he went.

“On the table.” Thomas pointed, and Alexander followed into the living room until he came to a giant rectangle box with a pink bow on top.

“Oh, shit.” It certainly was big. Almost the side of Alexander's arm length-wise.

“Do you want some tea?” Thomas asked. Alexander shrugged, barely listening.

He pulled it towards him, fingered the tape a little bit; the bow. It had someone’s curling handwriting on it. Alexander had to squint to read the ‘To Alexander, from Plum’. He tried to pick it up from one side with just his finger, surprised with how heavy it was.

“What is it?” Alexander asked.

“I don’t know. She wouldn’t tell me.”

Alexander frowned and dug a nail under the piece of tape. He could take it home, open it there, but his curiosity was peaking, now. He _really_ wanted to know what was in the box.

He caught the tape and pulled up, ripping it off. Stuck it on the table and pulled back the flaps.  He was expecting, maybe, a baby bottle, baby shoes, nappies; literally anything to do with the baby.

Instead, the first thing that Alexander found and pulled out was the box for an electric toothbrush. Heavy, so he assumed the toothbrush itself was in there. He stared at it for a second, completely baffled. Why… Had Thomas’s mother sent him a toothbrush?

Alexander turned slightly to where Thomas was leaning against the kitchen bench, looking bored. As soon as he caught sight of what Alexander was holding, he started laughing, turning away so that he could bury his face in his hands.

“Let me explain…” he tried, voice muffled by his hand and his laughter.

“Okay,” Alexander deadpanned. Felt stupid holding up the box like it was some sort of surprise. What did he even do right now?  “Explain.”

Thomas chuckled, rubbed a hand over his face. “She has dementia.”

Oh.

Okay, that was a very good explanation.

“Oh,” Alexander muttered. Set the box down and took another peek inside. He chuckled, spied a magnifying glass with a pencil sharpener sitting on top of it. He took them both out, set them on the table. It was all packaged, the price stickers rubbed out. A pack of spearmint yum and some takeout containers. A can of double shot espresso from Starbucks. Alexander set them all out on the table.

“She got all of this for me?”

“She collects things. My sister takes her shopping sometimes. Sometimes she gives them away as gifts. When I told her about you and the baby, she was more excited than I’d seen her in a long time. Roxy said she had to stop mum from just giving you the whole lot.” He came around the counter with his mug of tea and sat at the table. Picked up a packet of prawn crackers and gave them a shake. Alexander pushed aside a stuffed brown bear and came across a Kindle still in the box. He picked it up and gestured with it to Thomas.

“I can’t keep this stuff,” he said, but it sounded more like a question. Could he? He didn’t know how to feel about taking something so expensive from a sick woman.

Thomas shrugged. Took the kindle from Alexander and read the words on the box. “I suppose you don’t have to. Sometimes she gives me gifts that I have no idea what to do with. She won’t really remember giving it all to you. But she won’t take them back either way, so they’re yours.”

Alexander sighed quietly. Couldn’t help the smile that flittered across his face.

“Tell her I said thank you?” He murmured.

“Sure.”

Alexander fidgeted with the little corner of the cardboard flap, staring at the pack of hair elastic in the box. Picked up the stuff he’d put on the table and started to put them back in.

“Thanks,” he muttered awkwardly. Wanted to go home now, or maybe just back to work.

Thomas got up from the table. “There’s some tea here,” he waved an empty mug at Alexander as if to entice him.

Nope, Alexander wanted to be as far away from Thomas right now as possible.

“I’ll pass,” he muttered. Dug around in his pocket and pulled out his phone, brought up the Uber app.

“Can we just talk for a second?” Thomas asked. He came to stand behind Alexander. Alexander almost flinched when Thomas grabbed his wrist loosely. He pulled his wrist back.

“About what? What else do we have to do?”

Alexander wasn’t looking at him, couldn’t see his expression. He stepped away from the table and Thomas. Shuffled back enough so that he was leaning against the back of one of the couches. Wasn’t in the mood to be told what to do again.

Thomas turned to look at him. He was frowning. “Not about the baby.” He shoved the box further onto the table and took a seat. Set his mug down and crossed his arms. “I need to apologize. Will you sit for a second? Please?”

Alexander’s brows pulled down into a grimace. Honestly? He didn’t want to hear it. Whatever million things Thomas wanted to apologize for, he didn’t care now.

He stayed quiet for a few seconds. Shot a sour look at Thomas, who just seemed to be accepting it. Instead of sitting, Alexander’s eyes found the bookcase again. By the window with all the little trinkets on it. He shuffled over slowly, deliberately ignoring Thomas.

“’Bout what?” He asked, hoping to get a rise out of Thomas, maybe. He picked up the picture of the woman in the photograph with the valley in the background. “Is this her?”

Thomas was silent for a few beats. Alexander chuckled when he heard a heavy sigh. “Yes. She used to travel a lot. That one’s from Australia.”

Alexander wondered what other places she’d been to. He set the photograph down and picked at a random book on the shelf. When he slid it out, he realised that it was a photo album. Opened the album and flicked to the first page. A picture of a boy sitting at a piano; so small that his feet couldn’t even touch the ground.

A chair scratched against the floorboards behind him. “Are you really going to be an asshole about this?” Came Thomas’s grating, clearly annoyed, tone. Alexander grinned.

“Me? An asshole? Never,” he chuckled. Shot a grin over his shoulder at Thomas, who was leaning back in his chair and had a hard frown on his face, before his eyes found the next page. A little boy, five maybe, sitting on the grass, the Eiffel Tower blurry in the background. He was smiling up at the woman who was sitting next to her. Thomas and his mother.

The next picture made Alexander chuckle. It was Thomas, his hair still a mess around his head, wearing a tie and blazer. He had a little bundle in his arms, the baby’s head just visible. He was still young, a very grumpy look on his face. Alexander wondered, briefly, if this was the dead sister. Didn’t know that he’d had two. The next picture was much the same: Thomas looking grumpy, baby in arms. Only, here, he was sitting on another woman’s lap. The woman herself was sitting in a wheelchair and was most certainly _not_ his mother. Her hair was blond and cut short by her ears. Her expression matched Thomas’s.

“Why did you tell me about that baby?” Thomas asked, and Alexander was momentarily distracted that he didn’t catch half of it.

“What?” He asked. Turned to look at Thomas briefly.

“Why did you tell me that you were pregnant?” He didn’t sound annoyed, but his frown was still there. Alexander was so baffled by this question that it took him a while to answer it.

“Because it’s yours?” He asked, quite clearly confused. Thomas leaned forward in his chair and leaned his head in both his hands.

“Just to put it out there, Martha’s a pretty unreliable person to talk to. She can’t keep a secret to save her life. She told me about your conversations with her. When you first found out.” Alexander paused, grimaced. _Cheers, Martha._

“She told me that you said that you didn’t want to fuck up my life by telling me. She made it sound like you weren’t going to tell me at all.”

Alexander frowned. Turned back to the album and flicked through a few pages without looking at them. Landed on a picture of a teenager. Short, black hair, a nose piercing. She was sitting at a restaurant table with a water glass in front of her. Her dress was red and looked like it was made of satin. She was posing a little bit, a big smile on her face. It took Alexander a few seconds to realise that it was Martha, Thomas’s fluffy hair just out of frame.

“I wouldn’t have done that,” he muttered quietly, frown in place. Thomas sighed behind him.

“I get that now. I didn’t before. I thought you wanted me to have no part in it.”

Alexander turned to him, frowning deeper. Almost felt offended.

“I know it’s stupid,” Thomas cut in before Alexander could say anything. He broke eye contact to stare at where his hands were fidgeting on the table. It was a weird thing to see him do.

“Everyone who even slightly knows you have told me that it was a stupid thing for me to think,” he said slowly. “Having a baby together is a very hard thing to do, and I thought you’d find it easier to do it on your own.” He paused, and Alexander looked back to the album.

“I’ve always wanted to have kids.” When Alexander looked back, Thomas was gazing at him softly. “And I’m excited, but I could see how stressed out it had you, and I was worried that you didn’t want me to have a say in anything. So, I've been really pushy and rube about everything. It wasn't my intention. I have no idea how you want to do this.”

Alexander expected more, but he tapered off there, giving Alexander a look. Okay, well, he got it now. Alexander understood what he was trying to say. He sighed a little and turned to shove the album back into the shelf. Unzipped his coat and shrugged it off. Alexander was still frowning when he took a seat at the table across from Thomas, but Thomas looked relieved despite it.

Alexander leaned on the table, eyes down. Rubbed a hand against his forehead while he tried to find words. He wanted to be honest about this. He was tired, and so unmistakably confused, and if he was going to talk about his feelings and about what he wanted, he was going to be honest about it.

They'd shared something like this. Brief, over the phone, the rush of traffic in the background. Thomas's "I'll help" followed by Alexander's "I don't need help, I can do it on my own". He'd been trying to prove it more to himself than Thomas. He hadn't meant for anything to get mixed up like that. He didn't  _want_ to do this by himself. 

“I want to do this together,” he murmured at the table, his line of vision just catching Thomas’s fingers fidgeting together nervously. “I know there are tons of people who can help, but I want to do this together with you, and talk this out. I’m not over this changing everything.” He paused to heave out a sigh. “I’m so tired all the time.”

Thomas chuckled lightly. “I know, I can see it. You’re usually so opinionated and loud. You've been so placating lately. I was getting worried."

Alexander reeled back. “ _I’m_ opinionated?” he called. The fact that Thomas laughed made it even worse. _You never keep your stupid mouth shut._

“Yeah, all the bloody time. Now you’re just cranky and boring.” He had a stupid grin on his face. Alexander wanted to slap it off.

“I wouldn’t be so cranky if you weren’t so annoying to be around,” Alexander bit out, frowning. He was only half serious. Could see that Thomas was trying to bait him.

Thomas grinned wider. “Me being annoying has literally done nothing to stop you from willingly being in my company, Alexander. You’ve brought it upon yourself.”

“Well I don’t have a bloody choice now, do I?” He grumbled, sitting back in his chair. Thomas gave him a small, happy shrug. It was over the top; he was being smug. Alexander kicked at his ankle under the table.

There was a pause. The grin slowly turned into a smile and stayed there, but Thomas’s gaze didn’t drop. Kept boring into Alexander until Alexander had to look down and sigh. This moment here, the banter, the jabs at each other, was entirely what it was like when it was just to two of them. Usually, after they’d had sex, when Alexander would consider going home and Thomas would throw some clothes at him and convince him to stay by making dumb comments about a previous conversation they’d been having at the bar. Their pillow talks didn’t always come in abundance, but when they did, they were always stupid. Alexander liked when it was like that.

“Just going to throw it out there and let you know that you still haven’t said sorry,” Alexander muttered sarcastically, fingernails tapping against the table. Thomas chuckled.

“I don’t know if I want to say it, now. Just to spite you.”

Alexander’s quiet “fuck you” got caught in Thomas’s chuckle.

* * *

 

 Alexander didn’t look at his watch again until it was going on five thirty.

He was on maybe his fifth cup of tea by now. Was able to play the pregnant card convincingly enough that Thomas finally got up and brought him a snack; a bowl of sweet popcorn.

The bowl was currently just kernels, sitting by his side on the floor where he had more of the albums spread around him, and a few books. Thomas was laying on the couch, open book over his face. His voice was muffled every time he spoke, and there were probably little bits of popcorn strewn inside the couch cushion somewhere from when Alexander had been annoyed and threw some at him. The living room was dim; the curtains down, the ceilings lights off. The only light came from the tall lamp in the corner by the bookshelf and the window, and the two rock salt lamps that Thomas has turned on some time ago.

The time came to a complete surprise to him. He didn’t realise it was so late. Mostly because, when he’d made it clear to Thomas that if Alexander couldn’t afford half of the rent, he and Thomas were just going to have to live separately, he hadn’t expected Thomas to grumble, get annoyed, and then suggest that Alexander stick around so that they could start looking straight away. Alexander was clueless about how hard it was to find a three-bedroom apartment that met both of their needs until they’d really started looking. Thomas had even almost settled on one until Alexander saw the price, and then, by that point, it had been two hours, and Alexander was exhausted and bored and refused to participate anymore.

So, Alexander had pulled down an album to make fun of one of the pictures of fifteen-year-old Thomas, and Thomas had flopped on the couch in clear annoyance at Alexander’s unwillingness to look anymore.

And that’s where they’d stayed for the last half an hour.

Alexander was trying not to laugh at all the pictures of teenaged Thomas wearing sweater vests. He was staring at one of Thomas and Martha, both of them with skateboards, looking absolutely ridiculous in knee and elbow pads.

“Not my fault. I absolutely hated them. Mum made me,” Thomas muttered, his tone a little petulant. Alexander chuckled from where he was laying on a cushion on the floor.

In the half an hour that he’d been looking at them, he’d learnt that the woman who had given Alexander the gift box, the woman who Thomas addressed as “mum” was actually his step-mother. That he had a step-sister and that they both lived in New Jersey. That the mother was Plum, and that she was from Belgium, which was where Thomas’s father had met her. That Thomas had lived in France until he was twelve. That he and Martha started dating their fourth year of college.

All of this Thomas had given up in a sort of reluctant tone. Wasn’t too comfortable talking about it until Alexander had quietly mentioned that he’d paused his last year of college to go to rehab. That he’d been looking for a constant pick-me-up to get through all of his classes and more, and that he’d almost died of an overdose. Alexander had told him about his mother dying of fever and about living as a foster child until he came to be in the care of the Schuyler’s. He said little else after that, a little self-conscious about the little frown that seemed to permanently stick to Thomas’s brow. He didn’t want this to turn into a giant sharing session.

 “What, she came and supervised? How old were you?” Alexander laughed.

Thomas picked up the book from his face and shot Alexander an unimpressed look that made Alexander laugh a little harder. “I was fifteen. She was very protective. Especially after I broke my leg on the stairs after we moved here.”

Alexander briefly put the album over his face and chuckled. He flicked to another page, where Martha and another person Alexander didn’t recognize were dumping buckets of water over Thomas’s head, a sunny beach in the background. Some of the pictures in the albums were a bit out of order, so Alexander had no idea what was coming next whenever he turned the page.

“Catherine’s the same. We had a very tight curfew, and the one time that Ang got caught doing weed, she was grounded for two months. It was brutal,” Alexander muttered, mind elsewhere. He caught Thomas’s chuckle.

“What did she ever catch you for?” He asked. Alexander shut the album and dropped it onto the other one he’d already looked at.

“Nothing.”

Thomas scoffed. “Don’t lie to me,” he muttered. Alexander grinned a little.

“No, man. I was a saint. She loved me.”

Thomas dropped his book on the ground and shifted so that he was laying on his side. “Up until you nearly died?” He asked.

Alexander chuckled, but he didn’t think it was very funny. “Yeah…” he muttered. reaching for the last album. It was a different book entirely. Instead of the photo’s being slipped into the actual sleeves, this one was printed, like it was made at an actual shop.

“Rox made that one,” Thomas muttered. He got up from the couch and threw a couch cushion down next to Alexander’s. Laid down next to him so that their shoulders were touching. “Dad passed away and mum got sick, so Roxy took it upon herself to keep the whole thing going. It lasted a year, and I didn’t care enough to take over.”

The cover was the three of them. Thomas, older, cornrows of hair. Plum in a long, striped dress, her dark hair done up in a messy bun. she looked close to fifty; the oldest that Alexander had yet to see her. Roxy had tan skin and blue eyes, her blond hair falling just over her shoulders. In every picture that Alexander had seen of her, she was always wearing red lipstick.

The first page was a picture of Plum holding a happy birthday card. Off to the side was the blurry remains of a half-eaten cake, candles as the number forty-seven sticking out of the top. Thomas was half in the shot as well, sitting on the couch next to his mother, a Siamese cat sitting in his lap. He was wearing a purple tie, his hair pulled back.

Alexander lowered the book for a second. Dropped it onto his chest so that he could press his fingers into his eyes and yawn.

“You’re not tired already?” Thomas asked, taking the album from him.

“I had a shitty night.” He put his arm over his face. Sighed loudly. It was tempting to just fall asleep. Alexander felt like he could. The warm glow of the room, the cosy temperature. The rug he was lying on was thick, too. Thomas probably wouldn’t care.

Everything lapsed into to silence, Thomas breathing quietly beside him. Sometimes he had nights where he couldn’t sleep, despite how tired he could get. Sometimes there were too many things on his mind. Sometimes the ‘what if’s’ drove him too crazy. Sometimes he could only fall asleep when his eyes started to hurt and stung. Lately, though, after he realised his stomach was starting to stick out, Alexander couldn’t sleep simply for the sheer excitement that would catch him. And honestly, those were probably some of the best no-sleep nights Alexander had had so far.

Alexander moved his elbow and watched Thomas flick idly through the album until he settled on a picture. Very colourful and bright, lots of pink and silver. A New Year’s party, if the silver ‘two thousand and fifteen’ balloons hanging in the background was anything to go by. Thomas was sitting almost centre, one girl on his left, two on his right. They were all wearing something pink or silver or both. All of them dark-haired. Thomas was wearing silver bangles to match his sparkly sweatshirt. Someone had pinned a pink bow into his hair. He was grinning, a sparkler in one hand and a giant skewer of grapes in the other.

Alexander chuckled. “Where is this?”

Thomas flicked to the next page. Two pictures, selfies, of Thomas and Roxy. She was wearing a very elegant and low-cut wedding dress. They were both smiling.

“Spain. Rox and I spent the New Year there with a few friends.”

“And you ate grapes on sticks?” Alexander sighed, amused. Thomas chuckled as well.

“It’s a Spanish tradition. You eat the grapes to the strokes of midnight. It's supposed to bring good luck.” He said this while flipping through each page, barely giving Alexander time to look. He spoke as if the picture itself bored him. As if it hadn’t been all that exciting as it looked, maybe.

“Did it?” Alexander yawned. He needed to go home soon, but there was something niggling at him.

Thomas sighed loudly, clearly dissatisfied. He closed the book and threw it down somewhere next to him. Alexander peeked out of the crook of his elbow and watched him run at his face like he was tired.

“No,” he muttered quietly. That’s how he’d been the whole time, if Alexander thought about it. Like there were certain photos that he wasn’t particularly fond of, even though he was smiling in most of them.  

Alexander flushed for a second. He thought of the hand-made and loved stack of albums that Phillip had. The effort he’d put into the photos. How Alexander had a select few that he’d wished he was in. He let his arms fall to the sides so that he could put his hands on his stomach. Laying down like this, the bump was quite clear, sticking up under his shirt, stretching it a little. He wondered, briefly, if, after he’d told them, Phillip could take a picture of it for him. It sounded lame even to himself, but he wanted that evidence.

Alexander shifted. Brought up his knees until his feet were flat on the floor. Tapped his index fingers on his stomach for a second. He just wanted to do something really quick. Reached a hand out and tugged at one of Thomas’s wrists. The left one, so that he could pull it over Thomas’s body and settled it onto his own stomach, right over the bump. Let both his hands drop away. Thomas’s hand was a warm and large weight over it.

He wanted to do this for a second, in the hopes that Thomas’s might be able to feel how excited Alexander was in the moment. That most of the time, he felt like shit, but now, when he could really see it, it was more real and important than anything else.

Thomas breathed in heavily. Alexander brought his arm back over his face and closed his eyes. He felt Thomas shift beside him, moving into a more comfortable position, perhaps. The hand on this stomach didn’t move an inch.

Alexander sighed. “The obstetrician that we met today. Can we just pick her?” Alexander asked quietly. He’d liked her. Didn’t see the point in talking to two more if he was happy with one he’d already met.

 “You want to? It’s up to you. She’s the one that’s going to be coaching you through everything.”

Alexander shifted his elbow to look at Thomas. Noticed that he’d moved so that he was lying on his side, close, so that it was an easier angle for his arm. “Does it have to be complicated? I liked her, and if she’s not an asshole about me not knowing what I’m doing, I’m good.”

Thomas chuckled. “I don’t think she is. Should I call her?”

Alexander nodded his head.

“I’ll do it tomorrow, then.”

There were other things to talk about. Like the hospital it was all going to happen at, and what the hell he was supposed to do when that time came. There were months and months to think about that. For now, he was happy to just do this.

* * *

 

 Sometime after, sitting in the Uber on the way home, the box sitting beside him in the backseat, Alexander shot a quick text off to Peggy and got an immediate ‘let me see what I can do’ as a reply. Brought a nail up to his teeth to chew on, and thought that perhaps he was finally on the right track.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just edited this, and, like, when the fuck did I write this chapter??? I hate myself.
> 
> Side note, my tumblr is goldstienne and if you message me with a hi i'll 100 percent follow you.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know anything about real estate, please leave me alone.

Alexander was at the gym when Peggy finally got back to him.

He was trying to beat his time on the treadmill, sweat soaking the front of his tee shirt and temples. Concentrating on the amount of time since he’d started, that when his phone stopped playing music and started ringing instead, Alexander almost fell.

He groaned, huffing heavily, and brought the machine to a slower pace. Ripped out his headphones and pressed it to his ear.

“Yup,” he called, trying to bring his breathing down to a level where it didn’t hurt to talk at the same time.

Peggy’s voice was loud and cheery on the other end. “Hi, sweetheart! What are you up to?”

Alexander sighed. “At the gym. Everything okay?”

“Oh, great! So, you’re not busy. Can you meet me in an hour?”

Alexander sighed and brought the treadmill to a complete stop. Wiped at his forehead. “Can we meet later? I kind of am busy.” He’d only been on there for a half hour.

Peggy made a humming noise on the other end. “Sorry Alex, I don’t want to interrupt, but I have one!”

Alexander breathed out a sigh and leaned one hand against the machine. When he looked down, he could see his sneakers and the way his tee shirt stretched across his stomach. He was now almost eighteen weeks.

“You have one? Where is it?” He’d asked her a favour a few weeks ago, but he hadn’t been expecting such a quick response.

“Close to you. Near Morningside Park. I only have this time slot, Alexander. You need to come. It goes into open house next week.”

Alexander grabbed his towel and gave the machine a quick wipe down. Shoved his earphones into the pocket of his sweats and made towards the stairs to the men’s locker room. “How much?” He asked, his legs feeling a little like jelly now that he was cooling down. The foyer upstairs was breezy and cold.

“Doesn’t matter!” Peggy insisted. She sounded very cheery. “You can afford it. It’s also just been renovated. I think you’ll really like it.”

Morningside Park. That was south Harlem, a few blocks from Columbia. “Okay, I’ve got to shower. What time?”

Peggy paused for a second. There was someone talking in the background. “Okay,” she muttered away from her phone. Then, to Alexander, “oh, ah, three thirty. I’ll text you the details. Thomas and I’ll meet you there.”

Alexander frowned. Opened his locker and shoved his towel inside. Pressed the phone to his ear and shoulder and started pulling out little bottles of shower gel and shampoo. Peggy was with Thomas now? Since when did they do that?

“You’re with Thomas?” Alexander, then paused, expression morphing into a scowl. “Is he talking shit about me? He is, isn’t he?” Which wasn’t too much of a concern. Alexander didn’t care who Thomas whined to, but only when it wasn’t his sisters.

Besides, Thomas was on thin ice at the moment. Alexander was sick of listening to him whine about Alexander’s strict monthly rent budget.

Peggy snickered a little. “Nah, I promise. I would never talk shit about you, Alexander.”

She was cut off by a “fucking liar” from the background. Alexander barely caught Thomas’s distinct voice. Peggy laughed.

“Anyway, do what you got to do. We’ll see you soon.”

Alexander muttered a “love you” into the receiver before he hung up and set his phone down inside the locker. Frowned, feeling weird knowing that Thomas and Peggy were together. What were they even doing? Was that a normal thing? How often did they do that? Alexander could remember Thomas talking about a conversation he’d had with Angelica about baby stuff, but he didn’t think it was a casual, common thing for any of them to hang out together.

He grabbed the clean towel from his bag and the shower bottles. Set everything else in the locker and padded towards one of the closed-in showers. He was quick about it, despite how little time it would take him to get there. Washed his hair while he stared at the wall, brows pulled down.

His hands paused over his stomach as he was washing, fingers poking at it. It was still a wonder. So much bigger than when he first noticed that he was showing. He’d been doing some research lately. Hours upon hours of research; like every bit of free time he had, he wanted to spend it reading about his baby. Knew that his baby was the size of a pomegranate from a quick google search. Knew that, soon, he’d need to start expanding his wardrobe into maternity clothes if he was going to arrive at work with clothes that didn’t look several sizes too small. Most of his work shirts didn’t fit, but it was also cold and he very rarely took his sweaters off. He was surprised, more than anything, at the way different mother’s bodies looked at this time. Was surprised to learn that some had little to no bump, or that some had bumps much bigger than his own.

There was a chance that a sonogram could pick up the gender of his baby, now. There was a chance that, within the next week or so, he might know whether he was having a little baby boy or a little baby girl.

He had an appointment with the obstetrician concerning his mammary glands. Was curious as to why they weren’t developing a little more than they had been. She’d assured Alexander that it wasn’t a problem. That some mothers had fewer milk glands than others and that it could affect the amount of milk they could produce. She’d said that she wanted to do an ultrasound to have a look.

It was three by the time Alexander was dressed. Pulled his sweater over his stomach, a little self-conscious. There was no denying the babies existence when he was dressed like this. The world could see that he was pregnant.

Went through the motions of rubbing his hair with the towel. Packed it away into his backpack and brushed it out. Shoved everything back into his backpack beside his phone, wallet, and headphones. True to her word, Peggy had sent an address with an instruction that she’d wait for him downstairs in the lobby.

With time to kill, Alexander took the bus. Sat by the window with his scarf high around his face and watched the snow fall lightly outside, a random playlist playing in his ears. It was still cold, but the snow was starting to let up a little.

He’d started to feel so much better as of the last couple of weeks. Didn’t know when the exhaustion started to let up, but he didn’t constantly feel like he was going to pass out the minute he’d get home from work. No longer felt so exhausted by late afternoon. By this point, he was starting to feel more normal.

He’d also gotten around to telling his boss. Another thing out of the way, although, if Alexander was honest, his boss was kind of the last person on his mind when it came to explaining the situation. He’d taken to avoiding Hercules as of late, and he knew it was starting to get suspicious. Even John had texted him with a “Herc’s muttering ways to slaughter you because you’re not texting back”. Alexander honestly had no idea how he was going to handle that situation. He was mostly just surprised that he’d gotten away with it for the last couple of weeks.

The address was 352 West 117th street. A regular apartment block with fire escapes and low iron-wrought fences. Alexander pulled out his earphones and shoved them into the pocket of his jacket. Pulled open the door into the lobby, which turned out to be a little more spacious than he’d thought it would be.

Peggy opened the door to the elevators, a big smile on her space. She was with Thomas, who was standing by a woman dressed in a very business-like dress.

“Hey, sweetheart!” Peggy called. Pulled him close so that she could give him a kiss on the cheek and a hug. Alexander smiled into her hair.

“We don’t have long,” she continued. Pulled back and tugged at his arm. “Vera is going to take us up and have a look, but she’s got somewhere to be in forty-five minutes, so let’s not waste time.”

Vera gave him a friendly smile that Alexander returned. Accepted the hand she held out and shook it.

“Hi. Alexander,” Alexander muttered.

“Pleasure. Thanks for making the time, I understand it was very last minute.”

Peggy chimed in. Alexander stared at her, a little ball of energy today, apparently. “Andrew only told me about it this yesterday. He knows the landlord.”

Peggy’s boyfriend, who was in real estate and the only reason he’d asked for Peggy’s help in the first place.

They all climbed into the elevator. Alexander stood next to Thomas, but ignored him. Thomas didn’t look thrilled to be here, but at least he wasn’t talking. He listened to Vera talk about the renovations and the lay of the apartment. Gave individual sheaves of paper to both Alexander and Thomas that featured a floorplan and a list of miscellaneous things.

“And you can have a cat!” Peggy called, arm slapping out against Alexander’s side. Alexander reeled back a little, arm out to protect his bump.

“A cat?” Thomas asked, a little incredulous. Alexander flushed, ignoring Peggy’s solemn “sorry” when she’d realised she’d hit him. Sometimes her enthusiasm was a little too much.

“Alexander’s always wanted a cat,” Peggy answered, giving Thomas a smile. Alexander ignored the both of them.

Peggy wasn’t wrong, though. They exited the elevator on the fifth floor and waited while Vera unlocked the door. Alexander wasn’t good at this sort of thing. Not that there was much to it, but he’d only ever gone apartment searching once, and was only able to get the one he had now because he’d agreed to take on the lease for someone else.

The door opened into the kitchen first. The foyer, as Vera called it, had a huge closet, and a short hallway that led to the living-dining area. Alexander stepped into the living room and was taken with it immediately.

Long, wide windows, on either side, curtain-less, so the weak sunlight streamed in in abundance. The walls painted a pearly white. Hard, light floorboards. It wasn’t big, but it was almost three times bigger than his studio.

He followed Vera into the kitchen where she was showing Thomas the renovations done in there. It was small in here too, but nice. Stainless steel oven and dishwasher, off-white cabinets, a built-in microwave. The oven had six cookers and was probably bigger than it needed to be.

Peggy latched onto his arms somewhere down past the kitchen, where he’d strayed from the others to take a look at the bedrooms. All in all, as Alexander got a shot of each door, it wasn’t a huge apartment. Not overly spacious, but it was comfortable.

The master bedroom has its own ensuite and was mainly attached to the living room, while the other two were on the other side of the kitchen. Alexander stepped into the smallest of the rooms, that same pearly white with the floorboards. Only one tall window, but the closet was large, and Alexander stood in the doorway and tried to picture a crib in the corner. A rug maybe, with silly little pictures on it, a toy box, the closet full of tiny little coats and jumpsuits and hats with flowers and beads sown into them. He pressed a hand to his mouth for a second and just imagined.

It was like a wave of something Alexander only had distant memories of. That all-encompassing _excitement._ It stirred so suddenly in his chest that Alexander felt almost like he couldn’t breathe. To picture it so fully. A baby’s room. Baby clothes and toys. Maybe they’d paint the wall? Spend hours trying to pick the colour. A pram, a car seat, maybe. Those little cradles that you could get with the rattle toys attached to them. Alexander didn’t know if that sort of stuff had a specific name, but it was so clear in his head. Almost like it was real.

“It’s a little cheaper, you know,” Peggy murmured. Alexander turned to the doorway to see her sticking her head inside. She was smiling.

“Cheaper than what?”

Peggy shuffled into the room. “Andrew pulled a favour. She’ll give it to you for a little cheaper.”

Alexander placed a hand on his hip and stretched his back out, pulling at the knots. He turned back to the room for a second.

“Can I touch it?” She asked. Came to stand next to Alexander with an indulgent smile on her face. Alexander smiled back.

“Go for it.”

She was tentative, gentle. Slipped a hand into the folds of his jacket and sat it on the bump carefully. Her face changed, lighting up until she looked like she was glowing.

“What’s it like?” She asked, moving her hand over his stomach. Alexander knew what it felt like under her hand. Hard and alive, even though there was no movement yet.

He sighed. Pressed a hand into his back again. “It aches a lot. And I can’t sleep on my stomach anymore. And my chest hurts all the time. And I sweat a lot.”

Peggy laughed. “And soon your legs are going to hurt the most, and you’re going to need to pee all the time,” she finished, giving Alexander a grin. Alexander laughed.

“I already need to pee all the time.” He placed a hand on his stomach next to hers. “Sometimes I think he’s moving. I don’t think it’s time for that yet. I read that it feels like movements, but it’s just muscles.”

Peggy hummed and drew her hand back. “He?”

Yeah, that was a thing now. Alexander hadn’t dwelled on the gender all that much until Thomas had started addressing the baby like that.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, and really didn’t. Couldn’t feel what it would be at all. But he wanted to know more than anything right now.

“Does it freak you out that you’re almost halfway?”

Alexander stared at her for a second before he had to stop and think about that one.

Okay, _holy shit._ That was true, wasn’t it? He was almost halfway. He was almost halfway through his pregnancy. It didn’t feel like it, but he was almost twenty weeks. Alexander’s brows pulled down as he thought about that one. What a strange thought it was.

Peggy gave him a little smile, but his mind was elsewhere for a second.

“What do you think?”

Thomas’s voice almost made Alexander jump. “It’s fine. Kind of small. The kitchen’s nice.”

Alexander sighed, his hand rubbing his stomach gently, and turned to look at Thomas leaning in the doorway, papers still in hand. Alexander liked it. He liked the bathroom with the shower stall and the bath. He liked the windows and the fact that everything was so bright. It _was_ small, especially when Alexander thought about the fact that he’d be sharing this space with not just his baby, but another grown adult too.

Alexander breezed past them and into the other room. The door sat adjacent to the one he came out of. None of the rooms were all that big. Alexander wondered briefly if he’d be able to fit his desk in here, let alone his bed.

It wasn’t like he’d even had a living room in his little flat.

There were closest in here as well. Same floorboards and walls and just the one window. The thing that kept getting to him was that no matter where they picked to live, that was it. That was where he lived, now. Forever, maybe. Short-term _anything_ wasn’t an option. If he lived here, this was now going to be his home at least for the next eighteen years.

When Peggy stuck her head in, Alexander turned to her. “How cheap?” He asked.

“Don’t tell him,” Thomas called form the other room. He sounded amused. Alexander scowled lightly.

Peggy grinned. “If you take on a long-term lease, she’ll cut the price by five hundred.” But that still didn’t answer his question.

“Okay, so how much?”

Thomas exited the other bedroom and poked his head into the bathroom before he joined them both. “Alexander wants to pay half of the rent each month,” he said. Opened one of the closets and peeked inside.

“Fair,” Peggy muttered. Alexander rolled his eyes at Thomas’s stupid grin.

“He doesn’t want to pay more than a grand and a half,” he chuckled. Alexander flushed as Peggy looked at him.

She gave him a stupid look. “Alexander, what?”

Alexander scowled at both of them. “Peggy. A month. You expect me to pay more than that a month?”

Peggy shook her head. “Um, yes?” She said. Thomas chuckled. “This is a three bedroom apartment, Alexander. Not a tiny ass room in some shady apartment building.”

And Alexander knew that. He was probably being extremely irrational, but that had been his life. Saving his money. Not spending it on unnecessary shit. To pay so much money was just so hard for him to rationalise.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t even afford it. Even paying two grand a month was something he could do, but his mind kept coming back to the why. Why would he pay that much?

“Anyway,” Thomas muttered, closing the closet door. “It’s kind of small?”

Alexander rolled his eyes. “No, it’s not, shut up,” he griped. He turned to Peggy. “How much is it?”

“Don’t tell him,” Thomas chuckled. Peggy grinned.

“Seriously, can you shut up.” He wasn’t as annoyed as he sounded, and by the grin that Thomas shot him, he knew it.

Peggy sighed. “I’m actually not sure I do want to tell you if you’re only willing to spend a grand and a half on a place.”

“Peggy, no,” Thomas cut Alexander off before he could get a word in. “That’s not a thing. Alexander knows he needs to increase his budget. He’s just being difficult.”

Alexander scowled at him. “Hey, fuck off,” he muttered. He didn't need to be spoken about like he was a child.

Peggy chuckled. She opened her purse and pulled out a folded piece of lined paper. Her eyes flickered from Thomas to Alexander before she unfolded it and held it up so that they could both see.

It was a figure written in pen. A figure with the origin price, and minus the five hundred. Alexander squinted; stared for a second. Thomas scoffed.

“Who told you that, Peggy?” Alexander asked, a little incredulous.

“I spoke to the landlord yesterday. I told you, Andrew knows people.” She was grinning brightly.

With the five hundred off, the figure was just under four grand.

“Okay,” Thomas mused. “How long do we have to talk about it?” Alexander grimaced.

Peggy pushed up her sleeve and glanced at her watch. “Ah. Fifteen minutes? Vera’s got to go. I told you, this is a big favour. If you don’t pick it, you don’t get it.”

Alexander bit his lip and sighed. He shared a look with Thomas.

This wasn’t something he wanted to rush. Apartments always went fast, Alexander knew that. They had to be quick, but he didn’t even have any of the necessary paperwork. Thomas made it sound like he didn’t even _like_ it.

Alexander shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to look out the window. It looked out into a tiny courtyard and a busy street.

“Give us a second, Peggy?” Thomas muttered. Peggy gave a tiny hum, but Alexander didn’t turn to watch her go.

It was quiet for a minute. Thomas came to lean against the window by Alexander’s right. Alexander leaned his head against the glass.

“We could keep looking?” Thomas asked. He didn’t sound negative about it.

“Or we could just pick it?” Alexander suggested. He didn’t want to do it just for the price. He was thinking of the hours they’d both spent searching and talking to people, trying to find the right one. Most of them had been small anyway. Alexander couldn’t afford anything bigger.

“Do you like it?”

Alexander stood upright and looked at Thomas, who was staring at the opposite wall with his arms crossed. He sighed, quiet for a minute.

“It’s close to a park, too. That’s nice,” Alexander pointed out. That was what Alexander wanted, anyway.

Thomas smiled a little. “I like it. I don’t know how we’re going to fit everything in here. I suppose we can’t keep everything.” He turned to look at Alexander.

They’d figure it out though. Alexander didn’t have much. His desk and his bed. The sad excuse for a dining table only seated two people, so, useless. His tiny bookcase could go by his bed somewhere. Thomas was the one with the most stuff, and Alexander hadn’t even seen all of it.

“Do you think it’s too small for a kid? We’re going to live here.” _For years,_ Alexander didn’t say. Thomas shrugged.

“We can make it work.”

Alexander got the sense that he was only saying that, though. He leaned his forehead back against the glass. Everything went quiet while he thought about it.

They could do it. It was perfectly liveable. It was small, yes, but only because that both owned so much. The kitchen and living area were a nice size. Alexander could picture Thomas moving his stuff in. The bookcase with his mother’s picture, the two small sofas and the rug. The coffee table and the dining room table. It only fit four people, they could find a place for it. It wasn’t like Alexander owned any of that stuff anyway.

It was the baby stuff he was worried about. They’d need a high chair and he wanted one of those rocker things. The pram could maybe fight into the closet. Most of the stuff could probably live in the baby’s room anyway.

“Do we have to sign the lease today? I didn’t bring anything I need,” Alexander muttered. His credit check, anything about his annual salary, a bank statement. The only thing he had on him was his ID. He hadn’t even brought his chequebook.

“I did. The landlord said it was enough,” Thomas muttered. A hand landed on Alexander’s forearm. He rolled his head to the side and looked at Thomas.

“It’s very sudden. I don’t like that we don’t have more time to talk about it.”

Alexander grunted. “But it’s fine, right? It’s a nice place, and it’s ridiculously cheap. You just can’t pick a place.”

Thomas gave him an unamused look. “Are you accusing me of being the indecisive one? I really hope you’re not. Every suggestion I’ve given you, you’ve turned down.”

Alexander rolled his eyes. “Because I don’t have three grand plus to spend on an apartment, Thomas.”

He didn’t want to get into this again. Alexander wanted something cheaper, Thomas wanted a place close to work. There didn’t ever seem to be a compromise. Alexander was sick of Thomas acting offended that Alexander didn’t earn as much as he did. Thomas was a self-employed lawyer, Alexander was a social worker with one year on his belt.

Thomas sighed, frustrated. Alexander grimaced, frustrated as well. He was tired of this conversation.

“Okay,” Thomas muttered, his foot tapping against the floorboards. “Honestly, let’s do it then.”

Alexander looked at him.

“I like this one. We could make it work.”

Everything turned quiet. If Alexander concentrated, he could hear Peggy and the agent talking somewhere in the living room.

“We could do it now, Alexander. Peggy’s already introduced me to the landlord. We could sign the lease now. I can write a cheque for the rent and the fee.”

Alexander bit his lip. Thomas stared at him, frowning. He did this thing with his hand. Brought it up like he was going to touch Alexander’s face or something, only for it to still in the air between them and fall back down.

“You’re not going to whine about it later?” He asked. Thomas chuckled.

“I mean, probably. You can handle it.”

Alexander rolled his eyes and backed up from the window. Thomas’s hand slid off his arm; Alexander hadn’t even noticed it had been there.

“But, do I want to?” He muttered. He turned his back to Thomas and pulled the paper from his pocket. Looked over all of the things that Peggy had deemed important. She’d put a circle around the ‘heated tiles in kitchen and bathrooms’ and it made him chuckle.

“Alright,” Alexander muttered. He smiled a little. _Okay,_ he thought _, let’s do it!_

A head popped around the doorway slowly, a grin on Peggy’s face.

“Not to rush you guys. Vera has to leave. If you want to stay up here, we have to go down to the landlord.”

Thomas brushed passed him. “It’s good, Peggy. We’ll talk to him anyway.”

Peggy lit up slightly. “You’ve decided?”

“We’re going to take it,” Alexander answer, waving the paper around a little bit. Peggy grinned.

“Great!”

* * *

 

 It took a while to get everything sorted. Vera left with a little wave after she’d introduced them to the landlord. A man called Ryan who went through each piece of Thomas’s information with precision. Asked them about what they did, when Alexander was expecting. Whether they were mated. Which was stupid and invasive because no one even used that word anymore, and it was in no way important to what they were doing.

Alexander’s own lease was in need of a renewal, so that made things easy for him. Didn’t know what sort of lease that Thomas had. They had barely brushed over that. Alexander scowled when Thomas wrote the cheque and handed it over. That little piece of paper had a figure on it that was more than what Alexander earned in an entire month. He wasn’t thrilled about it.

The lease was a long-term one, which was to be expected, but ten years still felt like a ridiculous about of time to Alexander. Thomas signed it first, then Alexander, Peggy grinning from his side. A week was how long they’d have to wait before they could move in. A week for the cheque to go through, for everything to be finalised. Alexander would have to change his address on everything. Would have to talk to his landlady. Would have to talk about a lot of things.

When they were done, Peggy pulled him aside for a second, both of them standing in the lobby.

She looked a little worried.

“You okay?” Alexander asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m glad you guys got that all sorted, but we need to talk. About mum and dad.”

Alexander sighed and squeezed her hand. The nerves he had over that had long since settled into his life. He was used to being guilty and a little scared about telling them.

“I know. I’m going this weekend. Phillip said he’s going to pick me up from the station.” He’d long since thought about it. He’d know the gender of his baby soon. He had a due date and an apartment with a room for his baby. He had to stop avoiding this.

Peggy looked a little relieved, but her face was still slightly pinched. “Okay, good. I called them the other night. It almost slipped. It’s giving me a headache.”

Alexander grinned.

* * *

 

 It was just past five when they left the building, bundled up for the cold. Alexander was ready to go back to the gym, but Peggy hailed a taxi and told them both to get in. Said that Thomas owed her pizza and Alexander owned her his time. He was reluctant, but he got in any way.

They chose a round table with mismatched chairs, in a restaurant Alexander had never been to before, and Alexander told Peggy that he’d only stay if she paid for his large pepperoni pizza. Soft country guitar played over the speakers. They took a seat, knees knocking into each other. Peggy told Alexander a stupid story that Thomas had told her that morning. Thomas and Peggy spoke to each other like they were friends, and Alexander tried to pretend like it wasn’t freaking him out a little.

When they were done, Thomas made a gross comment about how Alexander ate every single slice of his pizza while he was licking tomato sauce off his fingers. Alexander responded by patting his bump and giving Thomas the finger. He was distracted; like he’d just traded one weight on his shoulders for another. He spent most of the time biting his lip and stressing.

But it was still nice.

* * *

 

 The exact words that came to Alexander when he was deciding were, _fuck it._

He took a train. Spent the whole trip wriggling in his seat. Was almost in tears.

It was Thursday. Almost evening. Going on six thirty now. Alexander had spent the better half of the last hour staring at a machine, trying not to cry.

Alexander couldn’t feed his baby naturally, Syalla had said. He wouldn’t produce enough milk. Probably wouldn’t even be able to produce half of what he needed. Alexander didn’t know if he was fine with that. He felt like maybe he wasn’t. He couldn’t feed his own child. He was an omega, and he was pregnant, and he wouldn’t be able to feed his own child.

But he had his piece of paper. He had his sonogram picture. He had what he needed. The excitement made him want to jump out of his skin

He sent a message to Thomas when he got above ground. Bit his lip while he walked and waited for a reply. The doorman was someone else when he got in. Tapped his foot on the elevator floor when he was on his way up.

Thomas looked very surprised to see him when he opened the door.

“Are you okay?” Was the very first thing to come out of his mouth. Alexander smiled gently.

“Sure. Are you busy?”

When he’d left, he’d tried to figure out who he wanted to speak to first. He could’ve called Angelica. She’d understand. She’d meet up with him. Even calling John sounded great. He’d thought it through for a while, but his mind only ever strayed to Thomas.

Thomas opened the door wider without a word. Motioned for him to come in. Alexander slipped his shoes off and hung his jacket on the closet door handle. He was happy, now that he was here.

“I’m not here on the weekend,” he said, replying to the text message Thomas had sent him that morning. They’d been discussing moving dates. The keys were ready to pick up now.

Thomas flicked the kettle on while Alexander took a seat on the sofa, heart in his throat a little.

“Peggy said you’re going to see her parents?” Thomas asked, fiddling with a teabag. Alexander sat back and noticed a few boxes on the floor. The bookcase was empty.

“Yeah, Angelica’s taking me. I haven’t told them.” The guilt hit him a little bit.

Thomas turned around to look at him. “That you’re pregnant?”

When Alexander nodded, Thomas laughed.

“Christ, Alexander,” he chuckled, a stupid grin on his face. Alexander scowled.

“What?” Except, he knew what.

Thomas bit his lip while he poured the boiled water into a mug. Brought it to the sofa and placed it on the coffee table in front of Alexander. When he sat down, Alexander shifted so that he had one leg on the cushions, whole body facing Thomas.

“You’re going to turn up, _that pregnant,_ and tell them that you’re expecting?” Thomas couldn’t seem to stop chuckling.

Alexander wanted to fake being mad, but his heart wasn’t in it. It was stupid, what he was doing. So, so stupid.

“You haven’t told them? Are you serious? You may as well just send them an ultrasound picture in the mail.”

Alexander shoved a toe into Thomas’s thigh. He grunted when Thomas grabbed his ankle and squeezed hard.

“Don’t, okay. I get enough shit for it.” He was a coward. A huge coward and he was afraid to disappoint them.

Thomas frowned at him. “But why? Wouldn’t it have been easier last year? When you first found out?”

Alexander sighed and brought his foot back. He bit his lip, thinking. He couldn’t because he was afraid. He was afraid of Catherine not being proud of him anymore. How could he explain that? He could he stomach it? The thought that she might change her mind. How could anyone understand that? How could he tell Thomas that? It clawed at him. The fear that they may not be happy with him for a very long time.

A hand came out and landed on his cheek. It made Alexander almost jump. A thumb on his bottom lip, pulling it out from between his teeth. Alexander flushed.

“Don’t do that,” Thomas muttered, hand still on Alexander’s face.

“What?” Alexander’s brows pulled down a little. Thomas’s fingers were warm on Alexander’s chilled skin.

Thomas frowned a little, gaze soft. He dropped his hand after a moment. “You always do that. Bite your lip when you're nervous.”

Alexander’s face heated up a little. No, he didn’t. Did he? He’d never noticed.

The interruption left Alexander feeling a little scattered, his train of thought gone. He picked at his sock. Deemed it a good enough excuse to move on.

“Anyway, I had a checkup today. With Syalla,” he said, eyes drifting down to where he was pulling at a stray thread.

Thomas was silent. Alexander’s gaze flickered up. Thomas was looking at him blankly.

“Was it okay?”

The excitement started to creep back in; the reason why he was here in the first place. It wasn’t _all_ okay, but he wasn’t worried about that right now. He was feeling happier than he ever had since this started.

“One sec’,” he muttered. Got up from the sofa and back into the hall where he’d dropped his backpack. Unzipped the front pocket to retrieve the photo. He held in close to his bump when he walked back, smiling a little. Thomas gave him a questioning look as Alexander took a seat again. Eyed the photo paper wearily. Alexander grinned and handed it over.

It was a picture of his eighteen-week-old baby. His baby was growing strong and healthy, Syalla said. Had double checked the due date and the umbilical cord, everything as it should be. The picture wasn’t anything too special in terms of their other one.

But Alexander knew the gender now. He knew whether he was having a baby boy or a baby girl.

Thomas’s reaction was kind of instantaneous; a smile flittered across his face, his body language changing. He took his arm down from the back of the sofa and leaned further towards Alexander, eyes on the picture in both hands. Alexander watched him gaze at it.

“This was today?” Thomas asked. Alexander thought he sounded a little in awe.

“Yeah,” Alexander mumbled around his own smile. There was something about the way Thomas always reacted to anything to do with the baby. Like, Alexander already knew that this was something he’d dreamed of, but to see it all genuine like that. It was very infectious.

“What was the check-up for? You didn’t tell me. I would’ve come.” 

“It wasn’t for an ultrasound of the baby. It was just for me. She wanted to do an ultrasound of my mammary glands.”

Thomas looked up from the picture to frown at him. “What? What for? Is that normal?”

Alexander shrugged. Swung an arm around the back of the sofa and leaned on it.

“I asked. Just to check. She says I’m not going to be able to make enough milk for the baby.”

Alexander frowned as well. Thomas’s expression softened a little.

“Oh. Well. That’s okay, isn’t it? Is it for sure?”

Alexander fidgeted a little. It was okay for literally anyone else. Alexander _wanted_ to be able to feed his baby. He wanted that experience and that closeness. Syalla had told him that powered milk worked just fine and that at least he’d avoid the aches that came with feeding a baby naturally. He already had aches. It hurt when he laid on his back, he got dizzy if he stood up too fast, he had ridiculous food cravings. Alexander didn’t care about it; he wanted those aches as well.

“It’s for sure. She said it’s not a big deal.” He looked down to pull at the stray thread again so that he didn’t have to see Thomas’s expression.

Thomas was quiet. Alexander watched him put his fingers to the picture like he was trying to touch the baby. Alexander wanted that too; to hold his own baby. He wanted to meet them already, no matter how exhilarated and scared he was.

“He’s so big now,” Thomas mumbled, which made Alexander grin. His tone was quiet and filled with wonder. Alexander chewed at his lip and took one of Thomas’s hands; the one running over the page. Brought it to the side of his bump and let it sit there over his sweater. He flushed, feeling a little embarrassed. He couldn’t explain why. For some reason, to have Thomas touch his stomach felt like something secret and intimate. Like they were sharing something that no one else could be apart of. Alexander felt like he was being stupid; this was _their_ baby.

“She,” Alexander mumbled, eyes on Thomas’s fingers on his stomach, rubbing just a tiny bit.

The movement stopped, Thomas lurched a little, like he was almost struck. Alexander looked up to see the surprised expression on his face. Alexander grinned wider. He kept his fingers loosely around Thomas’s wrist. Wanted to keep him there. His warm hand on Alexander’s little bump.

“She?” Thomas’s voice was breathless, quiet. Alexander’s grinned widened. He nodded. Felt good confessing it.

Thomas was giving him a very serious look. Gaze flickering down to his stomach before they found Alexander again. He dropped the picture in front of him and shuffled closer, their knees knocking into each other over the cushion.

“You don’t know that,” he accused. It made Alexander chuckle. He leaned back, both hands behind him so that he could stretch his back out. Thomas’s expression hardened a little.

“You don’t know that,” Thomas repeated. Placed his other hand on Alexander’s stomach.

“I do. She checked. It wasn’t intentional. I didn’t know she would. She said it was easy to tell.”

Alexander paused a second, the amazement almost giving way to his tears again. Thomas looked so awestruck, it was almost comical. Like he was seeing something he couldn’t comprehend.

“It’s a girl?” Thomas asked, breathless. Alexander gave him a warm smile.

“It’s a girl.”

He watched Thomas gaze back down at the bump. Felt his fingers move over it; careful, tentative. Like he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to touch. Alexander watched the way his expression changed, smoothing out into something soft. Wondered if it was evident how flushed his face was. He wanted to reach forward and run his fingers between Thomas’s brows, where he was always frowning or pulling a face. Wanted to feel the smooth skin there, run a thumb over the bridge of his nose. His hand twitched behind him. The air between them was full of something that Alexander couldn’t name. That secret. That intimate thing that only they shared.

Thomas’s eyes flickered up to him, gaze intense. Alexander bit his lip, the nerves making him feel like he needed to get up and jump around, expel some energy.

Then Thomas leaned forward, closed his eyes, and Alexander sucked in a tiny breath as Thomas kissed his stomach. Soft, barely felt through the fabric of Alexander’s sweater. Alexander flushed, swallowed nervously.

Thomas pulled back the tinniest bit to look at him. “Okay?” He asked, quiet. Alexander nodded. Wanted to avoid saying something stupid.

He watched Thomas close his eyes and lean forward again. Not a kiss this time; not that Alexander could feel. But he leaned his forehead there, over the bump. Laid there quietly. Let time pass in a blur, just him, Alexander, and their little baby girl.

For some time, it was okay. Thomas pressed another kiss to the side of his bump. Quiet, eyes closed, expression soft. Alexander brought one hand up, leaning all his weight on the other one behind him, and placed it tentatively on the crown of Thomas’s head. Bit the inside of his cheek nervously, brushed his fingers through Thomas’s frizzy curls. His heart was beating so fast that he wondered if Thomas could hear it. Had never shared something like this with anyone before. Didn’t know what he was supposed to do or how to process what he was feeling.

Instead, Alexander grazed his fingers softly over the back of Thomas’s neck and smiled. It felt good to share this with someone who loved his baby just as much as Alexander did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to tack on that I feel like this fic will be longer than 20 chapters :/
> 
> Thank you for your wonderful comments, as always.


	12. Chapter 12

Eliza threw him a look. An annoyed look. Like she was honestly about to straight up murder him. Alexander would’ve laughed if he wasn’t feeling so dejected.

“Are you going to complain, or are you going to help?” She asked. Was currently situated on his tiny apartment floor, packing, wrapping dishes into pieces of newspaper and stacking them together. Alexander was laying in the space where his bed used to be. Used to, but not anymore, because John, Angelica’s husband, had come by that morning with a rented trailer and his car. Alexander had so little in the way of belongings, that they hadn’t even been able to fill the whole thing up.

Now, the only things that remained were the crockery and a garbage bag full of clothes he didn't want anymore.

Apparently, according to Eliza, Alexander was shit at packing.

“I’m going to complain,” he muttered to the ceiling. Had an arm thrown over his face to block out the light.

“You do this first, Alexander. All the small shit. Then the bigger stuff. Can you stop whining, please, for god’s sake? You were the one that said yes to this,” she pointed out unhelpfully.

Alexander shrugged, but she probably couldn’t see it anyway.

He was laying on his floor, sulking, being extremely unhelpful, because he was in the midst of doing something that he now realised, more than ever, that he  _really_ didn’t want to do. Which was move out of his apartment.

Despite the weeks in the making this had been, Alexander didn’t realise how much he hated it until now.

“I’m going to end up killing myself,” he muttered into his sleeve.

“Can’t be that back. You fucked him for long enough,” Eliza answered, sounding uninterested. There was the distinct noise of plates and bowls clinking together. She was packing the non-essential stuff. The stuff that she offered to store in her tiny spare room until Alexander figured out what to do with it. They’d already made a round that morning. Books, mostly, and the box of cutlery. His sofa and table. She’d suggested donating it somewhere, but Alexander declined rather vigorously.

That was the problem, really.

He could handle moving in with someone. Didn’t matter who. Couldn’t imagine it being any different from spending years in college with a roommate. Wasn’t sure if he was even concerned that it was with Thomas.

The problem came down to the fact that Alexander felt more and more like it was out of his control.

His stuff, his furniture and some of his books, the things that belonged to him; barely any of it was coming with him. Not like he owned a whole lot anyway, but it was a bit jarring when the confines of his own space were about to shrink just a little more. He wouldn’t even be using his own goddamn cutlery. Would be sitting on a sofa that didn’t belong to him, the living room decorated with things that he didn’t own. Admittedly, because he’d never had room for it, but it still felt uncomfortable.

Angelica had rolled her eyes. Told him that he had to stop thinking like him and Thomas were a separate thing. That by the time his third trimester rolled around, Alexander wasn’t going to care who’s stuff it was.

“What if it’s unbearable?” Alexander grumbled. What if he hated it? What if he and Thomas were so different that it affected them living together?

Eliza turned from her spot on the floor and gave him an annoyed look. “Alexander, please. Complain to someone else.” She turned and started scrunching up the rest of the newspaper.

“What if it isn’t unbearable? It might be nice,” she muttered. Alexander watched her from under his arm. She lifted the box up, straining a little, and deposited it onto the kitchen counter. Clapped her hands together and turned to face him.

“Done!”

Alexander frowned and retreated back under his arm. Laying on his back was starting to hurt. It was late morning, but he was sweating so much he felt like he needed a shower.

The floorboards shifted under him until Alexander could feel Eliza looming above him.

“Come one, mama, get up. I’ve got places to be and Angelica’s going to need her car back.”

Alexander lifted his arm enough to throw her a displeased look. She smiled brightly at him. Reached an arm down. Alexander sat up slowly, groaning. Eliza pushed at his shoulder a little to help. Held onto his arm tight while he pulled himself up.

He’d already given his landlady all sets of his keys. Told her they’d be out by three. Alexander followed Eliza over to where their coats were hanging from the bathroom handle. Zipped it up and reached for the garbage bag. Eliza grabbed the box, and Alexander waited for her to back out of the doorway before he followed.

He couldn’t bear to look back as he shut the door behind him. He'd spent all weekend packing everything up, coming to terms with the fact that this wasn't his home anymore. 

 _That was that_ , Alexander had thought, once John and Eliza had managed to get his bedframe down into the trailer. The room had been mostly bare then.

Now he was sitting in Angelica's car with most of his stuff in the back, on it's way to sitting in Eliza's space until he figured out what he was going to do with it. Now he was on his way to his new apartment, a new set of keys jingling in his pocket. Sat slumped in his seat, picking at the cords on his new hoodie.

They’d gone clothes shopping last week. Supposed to be just him and Angelica only, apparently, Peggy and Eliza felt like inviting themselves. Alexander left with an array of clothes, including a new coat and pants that had elastic in the waistband. He’d grumbled while he paid, staring at the two hundred plus dollars he’d never thought he could possibly spend in one go on clothes alone.

So, now he was wearing a pair of jeans that could be adjusted, and a hoodie that looked a little too big for the size of his stomach. As much of a weird thought as that was. Boxes and a suitcase full of clothes that fit over his growing bump. Alexander was surprised to find that once he started really noticing the growth, he noticed that it never really stopped. Just passed twenty weeks, and Alexander felt like his stomach was something else entirely.

Catherine, dropping him off at the station two weeks previous on his way back to the city, had told him that sometimes it could feel like an attachment. Like, instead of it being a part of him as it was, it could feel a little unnatural at times, especially the first time. Alexander could relate to that. Found solace in the way Catherine spoke honestly about it. Had been tense and ashamed the whole weekend that he'd spent with her and Philip, but knew that he could at least be honest about how he was feeling. 

Eliza dropped him off on the street between two cars. Gave him a hurried kiss on the cheek and threw out a “call me if you feel like killing yourself”. He flipped her off as he closed the door. Shoved his key into the lock of the building door without waving back.

Thomas had already moved in. During the last weekend when Alexander had gone shopping and made a half-assed attempt at packing his shit together. Alexander hadn’t seen what the apartment looked like since the first time. Didn’t know what Thomas had done with any of it. Alexander hadn’t been there when John had dropped off his things, but they had been speaking. Texted back and forth about who's furniture was making the cut and what each other's day schedules looked like so that they could work around doctor visits. 

Apparently, considering how big he was getting, he had a lot more of those to come.

Alexander shoved a hand into the pocket of his coat and keyed open the door, trying not to feel weird about it. Closed it behind him, the lock latching by itself. He unzipped his coat and made his way down the hall.

Most, if not all of the furniture was Thomas's. Alexander had never had a living room before, therefore never really had all the attachments. He shuffled down the hall and into the living room, almost bumping into the dining table on his way. There was only one sofa sitting where it looked like it should be, the rug centred in the middle. The coffee table was up against one of the walls, the second sofa sitting next to it. The bookcase was empty and set up near one of the windows. It wasn't decorated in the slightest; not the way that Thomas's old apartment had been. Pictures hung on the wall of matching art pieces and family.

It was kind of a mess, actually. Bare in the typical way a new apartment should be.

He shrugged out of his coat. Passed the kitchen and back down the hall to his own room, everything quiet. Meeting James for brunch, was what Thomas had texted him.

His stuff was there, the mattress and the bed frame against the wall, desk and chair by the window. His bedside drawers and small bookcase were in there too, boxes of stuff, clothes and books, stacked up in various places. His belongings took up almost every available flat surface in the room. Alexander could barely walk in it.

He sighed. Set his coat down on his chair and sat down on the mattress. Stared at the boxes and the window without its curtains. It was warm in here, the radiator by the closet crackling quietly. Alexander got up and opened it just a bit. Wandered into the bathroom just for something to do. Stared at the dark wood panels of the cabinets and the pale blue tiles on the floor. Leaned against the sink and bit his lip. There was a bath in here. He never had one of those in his apartment.

This was his home now.

Alexander sighed and leaned back far enough that the sink dug into his back. It caused his bump to look bigger than it was. Alexander stared down at it. Pushed his hoodie up over his stomach so that it was bare. Rubbed his hands over the smooth skin and hair. Angelica had given him a ton of cream to combat the stretch marks and the dry skin, but when Alexander turned around to stare into the mirror, he could see them. Dark red, almost purple, new, right there on the sides of his stomach and his abdomen. He ran a finger over them, feeling the divots. The cream did wonders for the dry skin, but whether they helped the stretch marks or not, Alexander couldn't quite tell.

He ran his fingers further up until they sat over the top. Stared at his actions in the mirror. Turned fully to the side to see the way it made him look bigger. Chewed on his lip while he rubbed his hands in circles. Despite how reserved he’d been about it, how much he’d hated it at the start, Alexander couldn’t fathom feeling that way now. Something to do with the physical changes, with being able to see it. With knowing that he was having a daughter. Alexander had no idea how to look after a new-born, but he loved her. Didn’t quite know how not to, after all the time that had passed. 

Alexander sighed. Gave his tummy a small pat before he pushed his shirt and hoodie back down. He wandered back into his room. Stared at the mess and frowned at the fact that he’d have to start unpacking soon, or he wasn’t going to get it done by the time he went to bed. He sighed, rubbed a kink in his back, and toed off his shoes.

He started by stacking as many boxes on the desk as he could fit. Stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips while he glanced around the room. The bed was already against the far wall, and he was fine with that. Bedside drawers next to it. The desk and bookcase could probably go on the opposite wall. That would leave nothing in front of the window, the way he wanted. The chest of drawers was lacking only because Alexander deemed it too big to fit into the room, and the closet was probably big enough anyway.

He picked up the box labelled bedding. Set it down on the mattress and stood back. Tried to figure out where the hell he was going to start. The clothes, maybe, considering those boxes were the biggest. He opened up the built-in closet and started stacking the boxes into one of the shelves. It was bigger than he’d thought it was. Had a set of drawers already built into it.

Alexander sighed, pulled at the flaps of the box, and set to work. Spent some time figuring out what was going where. Clothes that were already folded and clothes that he had to hang up on the coat hangers that he had to dig around for. All four pairs of shoes shoved on the shelf next to his suit jackets. Set his suitcase on the bed so that he could unpack his maternity clothes. Shoved them all in the front of the drawers, since those were the ones he’d be wearing from now on. Folded up each box as he was done with them.

It took less time than he’d thought it was, with how easy and trance-like it was. Took his time moving the bookcase and the desk. Unpacked his books and work stuff. Shoved important files into the drawers and his laptop under his pillow. His projector – his substitute for a television – and various cords for things all went into a plastic box that had wheels and was small enough to fit under his bed. Ignored all the miscellaneous stuff like his photo frames in favour of pulling out the appropriate bedding. Two sets of sheets, a duvet and pillow covers. Set them all down and then packed the rest of the bedding into the drawer at the bottom of the closet that was now dedicated to random junk.

When Alexander stepped back, he was surprised to find that he had less stuff that he’d originally thought.

He started with the pillow covers first. Pulled his pillows and duvet from the box and set it down on the desk. Had one corner of the sheet in place before he realised his problem.

He couldn’t bed over the bed enough. Couldn’t twist so that he could pull the mattress up to slip the corner of the fitted sheet into place. If he leaned down too far, he felt like he was going to fall, and his back ached when he tried. It was like a balancing act, with his baby growing out from his stomach like it was.

Alexander sighed, frustrated, and shoved the bedside drawers out of the way. Wheeled the bed back from the wall enough that he could slip between it and put the sheet in place. Tucked in both of them and moved it back. He rubbed at his wrinkled brow and pushed his hair back from his face. Considered digging around in his toiletries box to find a hair elastic.

Instead, Alexander left his room behind and wandered into the kitchen. Pulled open cabinets and drawers carelessly, looking for a glass. Filled one up in the sink and drank it all in one go. He went around and searched all of them. Took note of the pots and pans, the baking dishes, the food cupboard that was barely full.  Glanced into Thomas’s ridiculously big fridge to find it mostly empty, besides the crisper.

He stared at everything in mild distaste, with a strong, uneasy feeling. Like he was intruding. He’d thought, perhaps, that considering it was a new apartment for the both of them, that he might take it better than if he were to move into Thomas’s old place. Thought that he’d find some solace in doing it together.

Only, it just made him realise more and more how uncomfortable he felt.

Alexander sighed and stretched his aching back. Filled his glass up again and was in the midst of inspecting the contents of the crisper when he heard the front door open. Set his glass down and closed the fridge just in time for Thomas to appear around the corner, arms full of shopping bags.

Thomas jerked a little, like he was surprised to find Alexander standing in the kitchen of the apartment they now lived in together. “Hey,” he called. Came around the kitchen island and set down the bags. He had his hair tied back and a dark green scarf wrapped around his neck. “Did you just get in?”

Alexander drank from his glass and stepped back to give Thomas room. Watched him start putting things away.

“A little while ago,” he muttered. Thomas paused to pick up a bunch of leaflets off the counter and slide them over.

“Angelica came by this morning and left these for you.”

Alexander took them and set his glass down. They were brightly coloured brochures on an array of prenatal activities. Yoga, water exercise, childbirth classes. All circled with the addresses or hospitals closest to where he lived.

They’d spoken about this briefly. About Alexander finding a hobby that involved his baby as well, especially something that he could continue when he had to take leave. Angelica had recommended a childbirth class that she’d taken that had prepared her for everything. She'd told him that he'd need to think about it before he picked one. Decide in which manner he'd like to give birth.

“And Martha left this,” Thomas threw in. Set down a book that Alexander recognized as an Ikea catalogue. He put down the leaflets and flicked through the pages of the book. Opened up to the ones that Martha had apparently stuck a colourful post-it note on. Cribs, mostly. Chest of drawers in different colours, bedside drawers, changing tables. A whole two page spread dedicated to mattresses and bed covers. Alexander chuckled at a few of the designs.

“Aren’t you supposed to give these back?” He asked, distracted. Ran his fingers over a picture of a light blue crib with simple wooden bars. He was looking forward to that. To figuring out a colour scheme to decorate the nursery with.

“There’s one in Brooklyn if you’d rather have a look in person,” Thomas remarked, opening the freezer at the bottom of the fridge to stuff in plastic pots of yellow stuff that Alexander couldn’t identify.

Alexander set the book down on top of the leaflets. “Like, soon?” He asked. They also needed to think about clothes. Baby clothes that weren’t just for a new-born. Babies grew obscenely fast in their first year, if Alexander knew anything. Angelica had saved him the trouble and written them a list of all the medicinal things they'd want to stock up on.

Thomas stood up and frowned a little. “I don’t know. Is it too fast?”

Alexander chuckled, but he was asking himself the same thing.

“I don’t know, I’ve never done this before,” he remarked sarcastically. Was it better to just get this stuff over and done with? “Angelica will know,” he muttered.

Thomas opened one of the bottom cupboards and pulled out one of the boxes that Alexander had packed some of his stuff into. Set it down on the counter and pushed it towards him.

“Okay,” he shrugged, “but you can ask her. She’s getting sick of me bothering her, I think.”

It was said so innocently that Alexander had to laugh. Pulled at the box and opened the flaps. Peeked inside to see his coffee press and boxes of tea, a few kitchen items that he’d brought along. Thomas disappeared down the hallway.

“Where do I put this stuff?” He called, considering that it looked like Thomas had made a place for everything already.

“Where ever you want,” was Thomas response. Alexander frowned. Pulled out the coffee press and spent a good few seconds searching through each cupboard until he found a spot. Shoved the tea and ground coffee into the food cupboard, found a home for what little else he had. Folded up the box when he was done and shoved it to the side. Rubbed his back and wandered into the living room. Pulled out one of the chairs and sat down so that he could stretch out his legs. He glanced over to where Thomas’s two tall lamps were sitting next to each other in the corner.

“Are you usually this shitty at decorating,” he called. Gestured to the room when Thomas came back in without his coat and shoes on. The only thing that seemed to be in a good place was the dining table.

Thomas chuckled. “No. I've been busy. And I was waiting for you. Thought you’d want to pick where things go.”

Alexander shrugged. “I don’t care, it’s your stuff,” he muttered carelessly. Thomas shot him an annoyed look. 

Alexander bit his tongue, his stomach growling with hunger. He got up from the table and wandered back into the kitchen. Pulled at one of the bananas sitting in a wooden fruit bowl.

“Can I have this?” He called, waved the piece of fruit in Thomas’s direction.

Thomas gave him a sour look. “I’m going to move this furniture,” he muttered, slowly. “And if you bitch about it later, you can move it around yourself.”

 _Unlikely,_ Alexander thought. Recognized that Thomas was trying to give him a part. Even though none of it belonged to him.

Alexander took his seat back at the table and started peeling the banana. “Okay,” he muttered. He didn’t really care, even if it had been his stuff. Thomas could decorate it the way he liked. Alexander’s apartments had never been big enough to have any fun with.

Thomas ignored him after that. Opted into moving each sofa until they were parallel to each other against the opposite walls. Put the coffee table in the middle, the bookcase off into one of the corners, each lamp on either side of the room. There wasn’t a whole lot to move. Alexander noted that the television unit that always lacked a television was missing. When Thomas was done, the whole thing looked very neat and symmetrical. Thomas gave it one last look.

“You forgot the picture,” Alexander threw out before he could think of it. Flushed a little when he realised.

Thomas turned to look at him. “What picture?”

Alexander got up from the table with his banana peel. Took a few seconds to search around for the food bin. “The one of your mum. In Australia,” he called out.

He wanted that one up, for some reason. Just liked the idea of decorating a space with pictures of loved one. Grew up poor, never had the luxury of a camera or a way to keep memories like that. Philip’s photo albums were up there with some of his favourite books to look at.

Thomas didn’t reply. When Alexander turned back to the living room, he was gone, his bedroom door open. Alexander didn’t know what to do now. Didn’t know how to occupy his own time. Felt like maybe he could nap if he tried hard enough. Mess around on his laptop. Check his work email, maybe.

Thomas came back out with a frame in his hand. Set the picture down on the middle shelf where it always sat, and stepped back.

It was awkward. Alexander didn’t want to think it, didn’t want to admit it was true, but he was trying not to be awkward. Didn’t know how to suddenly talk to Thomas about such domestic things. Didn’t know how to have such senseless conversations with him. 

He ended up wandering back into his bedroom instead, muttering something about putting all his stuff away and taking a nap. Thomas ignored him anyway.

 

The first week after moving in didn’t feel real, at first.

Besides the obvious changes, there were a few that took Alexander a while to get used to. The fact that they both woke up and left for work at almost the same time was a new one, especially because, at first, Alexander had no idea how to fill the silence while they both got ready.

Alexander learnt that Thomas was very observant. It only took two days for Thomas to catch onto the fact that Alexander didn’t really eat breakfast. Threw an apple at him that Alexander barely caught on Wednesday morning and told him that if he didn’t eat something, no matter how small, Thomas was going to give him hell for it. Alexander spent the remainder of the week taking that as a challenge, dodging Thomas’s deep scowls and insistent jabs. They rarely shared meals or time together, mostly because Thomas usually got home late and Alexander liked to keep to himself anyway. Alexander wasn’t in the habit of cooking anything too time-consuming. Liked most of his vegetable raw and separate, but he wasn’t blind to the way Thomas would always cook more than was strictly necessary. Threw out a "some food left if you want it" while he worked. They hadn’t talked that stuff out, like who cleans what and making enough food for the both of them. The jar near the microwave that was always filled with notes for groceries was as far as it ever got communication wise.

But it wasn’t as awkward as Alexander thought it might be.

He’d expected it to be a little more unbearable. Like maybe all the empty silence would drive him mad, or they'd both just lived in different ways. Thomas didn't seem to care about Alexander's tendency to leave his books or pens lying around. Very rarely commented on the way Alexander would hang his coat on the closet door handle, rather than in it.Didn't care that sometimes, when sleep evaded him in the middle of the night, Alexander would set about baking something sweet just to fill the time. Alexander couldn't seem to find anything about living with Thomas that he hated, so far. Didn’t feel weirdly uncomfortable sitting on the sofa with his laptop while Thomas spread his work files out on the dining table. They shared a space, and Alexander was surprised with the little amount of time it took to adjust.

Thomas left him post-it notes, sometimes. Figured that maybe it was something he’d picked up from Martha or vice versa considering the fact that she also did it on the off chance that she swung around. Left Alexander little shopping reminders or dates to remember.

Lately, they’d both fallen into the habit of writing a list of things they’d need for the nursery. Things that included a pram and a toy box and a baby bath that Alexander had crossed out because he’d thought it unnecessary, only for Thomas to write it back on. The list was longer than Alexander thought possible.

By the time a fortnight passed, Alexander was bigger than he really wanted to be, had a fresh print of his daughter stuck to the fridge, and had finished finalising everything for the joint account that he and Thomas had decided on. Sent the new sonogram picture to Catherine and Philip, who were giving him strict instructions to keep them updated.

Thomas was shuffling around in the fridge when Alexander got back from the post box, newspaper and half a plastic bag of chocolate in hand.

He set his shoes and coat into the closet, keys in his pocket. 

“Have you eaten?” Thomas called, distracted. Alexander wandered into the kitchen and reached around him to grab at the half-full bottle of orange juice.

“I’m making gnocchi. Do you want some?”

Alexander shrugged and poured himself a glass. “Sure,” he muttered, frowning a tiny bit.

He turned to where Thomas was filling the kettle up at the sink, something on his mind. He’d run unto the landlord on his way to the elevator. Had been making friendly conversation.

“Am I glowing?” He asked, a little absentmindedly. Almost immediately felt stupid.

“Yes,” Thomas replied immediately, eyes on the pot that he set on the stove. Leaned against the counter and smiled. “Have you not noticed?”

Alexander frowned. Why would he notice something like that? He wasn't even sure what it meant. Was vaguely aware that it was a thing that happened to pregnant people. “No? How? How am I glowing? What does that mean?”

Thomas chuckled. Leaned over and pinched his cheek. Alexander flinched and slapped his hand away as hard as he could. He scowled when Thomas laughed.

“Your skin looks all soft and shiny. I don’t know how to explain it,” he chuckled. Alexander pulled a face. He detoured into his bedroom to drop his phone on the covers and pick up his hot water bottle. Stumbled back into the kitchen rubbing his back.

“Who said you were glowing?” Thomas asked, wooden spoon in hand. "Do little old ladies stop you on the street to comment on how radiant you look?" He took the water bottle from Alexander’s hand.

“Do you mind?” Alexander muttered, reached out to snatch it back. Thomas threw it on the counter next to the kettle.

“Can you go lay down on the couch? Please? You’re going to hurt yourself,” he remarked. Ignored the dirty look Alexander gave him. His back had given him hell over the past couple of days.

He did anyway, only because his feet hurt as well. Swiped the dog-eared Ikea catalogue on the way and settled on the sofa with a few pillows squeezed between his legs.

They'd talked about making a trip sometime soon. Was going to maybe take a train to pick up Angelica’s car in Brooklyn before they actually went. Thomas was sick of just looking at pictures on the internet and in magazines.

He sat with the hot water bottle pressed to his back as they ate. Ignored the urge to cover his pasta in ketchup while Thomas flickered through information sheets on a childbirth class they were considering. Had it narrowed down to two. Alexander wasn't one hundred percent sure about how he wanted to give birth. Wasn't sure whether he wanted it to me unmedicated or not. 

He got up to wash the dishes after. Shoved the pot under the faucet and turned it on before Thomas came up behind him and told him to go lay down. Alexander almost argued, only, he was coming to understand that that was a thing for Thomas. That Thomas felt more comfortable when he knew that Alexander was as well.

Alexander settled on the rug instead. Pulled the throw cushions on the ground and laid on his side, catalogue still in hand. He eyed the crib on the page. The matching chest of drawers and the toy box, all pearl white and rounded off edges.

He remembered something, then. Saw the curved edges and thought of something that Angelica had said some time beforehand in passing.

"How do you baby-proof everything?" He muttered more to himself. Looked at how nothing seemed to have any sharp edges or things that were easy to trip over. They'd have to do that here, but how? What would need to be baby proofed? He knew about plugging the sockets, but was there much else? Were they going to have to put a little gate in the entryway of the kitchen?

Alexander sighed wearily and set the book down. Rubbed a hand over his face and groaned, exhausted. It was getting harder to sleep lately. Too hot or too cold, or sometimes Alexander just couldn't find a comfortable position. Found himself tossing and turning a lot, trying to find the right spot or even just sleep itself. Sometimes, he was exhausted, and yet, sleep would evade him for some time. Sometimes it would hit him like a train, and there was no stopping it. He was exhausted now, even though he didn't think he could fall asleep. 

Thomas picked it up off the ground beside Alexander and settled on the sofa with his feet on the coffee table. He was learning not to question Alexander's tendency to gravitate towards the floor, rather than the sofa.

“Are we actually going to buy anything when we go look at all this stuff? Or are we just browsing? It doesn't have to be from Ikea.”

Alexander got up slowly from the floor and picked up his hot water bottle off the chair. Came back to settle on the sofa next to Thomas.

“I don’t care. As long as we don’t come back with the grey set,” he muttered. Folded his legs underneath him. 

Thomas set the book against Alexander's leg and pulled a displeased face in his direction.

“Why?” he grumbled, petulant look on his face, obviously still up for debating it. “It’s nice. I thought we were going to compromise.”

They’d already had this conversation before. It was so old that they barely argued about it anymore

“We are. I don't care which neutral colour you pick,” Alexander remarked brightly. “Just not that one. It’s too dark. I want the room to be light.” He had an idea in his head of what he wanted it to look like. Wanted the colour scheme to be something sunny and bright, like yellow or lilac. Thomas, apparently, was all for the dark grey.

Thomas didn’t make another remark, much to Alexander’s satisfaction. Picked up the catalogue and flickered to the page that Alexander liked. The one where everything was in white, because he wanted to keep everything simple. The crib even had drawer’s underneath it. It was cute. Everything matched. It wasn't too expensive. It wasn't going to be sticking around long anyway.

“All right,” Thomas sighed. Flicked over a few pages to the lighting and lamps. Alexander slumped further into the couch, shoulder warm where it bumped into Thomas’s. Leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes, comfortable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay listen, i was done with this chapter the moment that i started editing it. so, im sorry thats its mega late, but i absolutely hate it, and didn't want to give you guys the shittier version. sorry man, wish i couldve done better with it. the next ones going to be loads longer and better  
> dont waste your time commenting on this, it sucks


	13. Chapter 13

Alexander sent the text through as it was nearing seven. Was in the midst of brushing his hair and putting it up when an awful feeling hit him. Something deep and shameful.

He sent the text through to Hercules, in the hopes that maybe they could meet early before they were supposed to turn up at the bar sometime after eight. A thing that Alexander had reluctantly agreed to do, despite the fact that he was twenty-three weeks pregnant and couldn’t drink anyway.

It was hard to keep track of Hercules’s schedule sometimes. Knew that if he didn’t get a reply within the first twelve hours, it was very likely he was heading up another tour in another foreign country. He was away so much that usually, Alexander didn’t bother checking.

Only, it was almost like he’d been waiting for Alexander’s text, because almost immediately after he’d sent it, Hercules was already shooting one back. A text that was very obviously blank and neutral in terms of mood. Usually, he was so easy to read through.

He likely didn’t know, Alexander guessed. Unless someone had said something to him, and even then, Alexander didn’t think that was the case. Couldn’t imagine anyone of his friends spilling it like that. It also wasn’t like they both spoke to each other very often, with Hercules always being away and Alexander being extremely terrible at keeping up with people.

Only, the last couple of weeks, their conversation had melted into something different. Tense, weird. Alexander shooting of stupid words and Hercules barely replying, or giving him very short, terse answers and so forth. Had developed a knack for constantly asking Alexander if he was okay.

It wasn’t the same as it had been when he’d told Catherine and Philip. The guilt, for them, ate at him constantly. How easy it was to always feel on edge and ashamed because they never knew. It didn’t feel like that for Hercules. The way he was always drifting, always travelling, updating social media with pictures of his adventures.

It was easy for Alexander to forget that Hercules didn’t know. It was easy not to feel so guilty all of the time. To kind of sweep it under the rug so that he didn’t have to stress about it. Didn’t have to count down all the possible ways he might accidentally run into Hercules somewhere, completely unprepared. It never happened.

But, as John continued to say, it was getting a bit ridiculous. Alexander could be irresponsible sometimes, but never like this. There were very few people that Alexander actually didn’t want to hurt or let down. The list only consisted of few people. Every time he was reminded of it, Alexander was also reminded that Hercules was on that list and that Alexander had done something that he felt an abundance of shame for.

So, he’d texted Hercules on the Friday evening, fingers shaking slightly, a desire to fix something. To just start somewhere.

He made it up from the subway with aching legs, gripping the staircase railing as tight as he could. Dodged as much of the crowd as he could, a hand over his stomach to protect it. This was the address, apparently. The instruction had been to just meet here, a station in Manhattan quite a few blocks from the bar they always met at.

Hercules was leaning against the side of a bus shelter. Hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, unreadable expression on his face, eyes searching. It took him barely a second to find Alexander through the thin throng of people. When they landed on him, Hercules brows furrowed.

Alexander was almost overcome with the amount of anxiety he was hit with. His heart rate picked up. Shoved his hands into the pocket and made his way over, because he wasn’t so much of a coward that he was going to run away from this. He felt like the shittiest person in the world, at that exact moment.

Hercules gave him a mean stare. Alexander had no idea what to think of it. Shuffled over until he was standing next to Hercules.

“You’re back,” Alexander remarked, a trying smile on his face. Stamped down the urge to hold a hand to his stomach, to try and hide it somehow. It was there, clear as daylight.

Hercules expression didn’t change. He gave Alexander a quick once-over.

“You’re alive,” he replied, tone hard, posture ridged. The guilt was overwhelming. Alexander had no reply to that. He stood in front of Hercules and had no idea where to start.

He bit his lip, trying to find the words. Didn’t think simply apologizing was going to be enough. The silence, the white noise, was jarring. The sound of cars and horns and pedestrian traffic thick and loud, but it was all barely audible.

Hercules shifted to stand from the bus shelter, expression unmoving. It made him that much closer.

“I don’t know what to say to you,” he said, his voice level, low. It was calm, which was incredibly scary. Alexander breathed steadily.

“I know,” he practically whispered, hands fidgeting in his pockets.

Hercules gave him a strange look. “Well, you look fine. Bigger than the last time I saw you.” His gaze didn’t leave Alexander’s face, but he looked like he wanted to.

Alexander bit the inside of his cheek. “I was trying to figure out… “ What, though? What was he trying to figure out?

“I’m going to save you the effort, Alexander,” Hercules continued as if Alexander had never spoken, and there it was: the full first name. So unlike Hercules to call him that on any other basis. “It’s clear that you didn’t know, but your scent changed. A lot. That’s not the sort of thing that alphas can ignore. I probably knew you were pregnant before you did.”

Alexander’s jawed clenched nervously. He was caught off guard. Wasn’t expecting Hercules to get to the meat of it. No. How? Alexander had assumed that the only reason Thomas caught the change was because he’d been the one to get Alexander pregnant in the first place. His mother had been the only one to really teach him about these sorts of things. His knowledge had always been limited. He had never known about the scent change thing, or that it was so obvious to some people.

Hercules breathed in sharply just as Alexander’s gaze found the pavement. “I didn’t know that,” he said solemnly, chest aching. The apology was on the tip of his tongue.

“No,” Hercules uttered dryly. Reeled his foot back enough so that it hit Alexander’s shoe. Not hard enough to hurt, but it jarred him enough to look back up at Hercules.

“I have no idea what to think, man. I thought I was making a big deal out of nothing. You didn’t have to tell me shit if you didn’t want to, but I thought you would. I gave you so many passes, Alex. I tried to bring it up so many times and I just assumed that you didn’t know yet.”

How awful he felt, considering that he couldn’t even think of one instance where Hercules tried to bring it up. Thomas, maybe, because Hercules never seemed to let that one go, but it was only ever in passing and over the phone. Alexander was never going to break the news over a text message.

Alexander opened his mouth. Wanted to say the first thing that came to mind; his big excuse. Hercules had a frown on his face, but it was oddly relaxed, like he couldn’t _quite_ find the energy to be fully mad.

The problem was that Hercules was always the mad one. He could get insanely angry at such small things, at the tiniest of reasons. Often felt like he had to be The Parent. Like he had to keep everyone in line and make sure they were being responsible. His anger was almost scary if he ever caught anyone doing something dangerous or risky. It had been a nightmare through the last dregs of college.

That had been his excuse. Before Alexander got caught in planning the next couple of months, when it was just him trying to tell people, he’d told himself that the reason why Hercules didn’t know, was because of how angry he was going to be. If Hercules even just knew that Alexander had spent even a second of his heat with another alpha that he wasn’t in a relationship with, there was no coming back from the lecture he’d receive then. A stellar amount of time would have to pass before he saw the end of it. It was why he’d been so reluctant to tell John, as well.

Alexander bit his tongue. Closed his mouth. Had almost nothing to say.

“It wasn’t a trust thing,” he murmured. Wanted to clarify that, even if Hercules didn’t believe him.

Hercules almost scoffed. Shoulders slumped and leaned back against the shelter again. His posture and tone were almost like resignation. “That’s what it looks like, Alex. Literally everyone knew before I did. There’s so much shit you haven’t told me.”

Alexander frowned. “You were going to be mad – “ Alexander started.

“I _am_ mad,” he cut in, expression finally shifting to something close to anger. “Does it look like I’m not fucking mad, Alexander? Don’t try me with that shit. You’re having a kid and you didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t know how, Herc,” he said, solemn, his voice rough. “It wasn’t easy when I found out. I wasn’t going to say something after a while. You’re not the easiest person to get a hold of.”

It was the wrong thing to say. If Alexander was going to try and defuse this as much as possible, it was probably the last place to start. He hunched his shoulders slightly. Waited for Hercules to knock that excuse out of the conversation.

More silence, a little less jarring. Hercules looked aggravated, almost lost for words. Alexander bit his tongue, silent.

It was almost scary when Hercules reached out. Curled his fingers into Alexander’s jacket, over his chest, and just held on. His expression changed into something a little softer. “Tell me you’re okay, man. With this. Having a kid and stuff. I just wanted to know that you were okay.” His voice was rough. This whole conversation was severally lacking any expected amounts of angry outburst on Hercules’s part.

Alexander’s heart wrenched. His shoulders slumped down, his body heavy with guilt. “I’m sorry, Herc,” he muttered, but it wasn’t enough, even for him.

Hercules let his arm drop. Ran a hand over his face in frustration. That was how he looked; not angry, frustrated.

“I was so bloody worried about you, you asshole. Even when I was away. I knew you were already having a hard time. I wasn’t going to be mad, Alex. You had me so fucking stressed. I was worried that this was going to kill you or something. I was waiting to support you.”

Alexander breathed in. “I’m fine,” he uttered softly, honest. “It’s been hard, but I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I’m sorry.” He tried to convey that, to make it evident in the tone of his voice.

Hercules’s eyes bored into him, narrowed slightly. Held Alexander there while he was thinking. Alexander felt locked into place. He was overcome by what Hercules was saying. Never expected Alexander’s predicament to stress him out so much. Never intended for it to happen. Proof of how caring Hercules was, whether it was through anger or otherwise. It was very rare for it to be anything more than anger, though.

Hercules shifted, his expression passing. Stepped from the bus shelter and turned away. “Come one, man, let’s go. Eliza will get shitty with us if we’re late.” And then he just left Alexander standing there. Turned away entirely and started down the pavement.

Alexander followed accordingly, quiet.

“What did he say?” Hercules asked him, eyes ahead, tone almost dismissive. It was like he was trying to figure out if he was angry or not. It was a rare thing to catch Hercules like that.

Alexander sighed, assuming he meant Thomas. “Fine, I guess. We’ve been figuring it out together.”

Hercules side-eyed him. “What does that mean? How does it work now?”

Oh boy, Alexander hated this part. Hated admitting how much he’d moved on with his predicament without telling Hercules.

“I’m having a girl, we know that. And she’s due in late June.”

Hercules turned his head to look at him a little more but otherwise stayed silent.

 _Band-aid_ , Alexander thought. “And we’ve found a place together.”

That stopped Hercules, just like Alexander knew it would. It was so sudden that someone behind them nearly bumped into him.

Hercules gave him an unreadable look. “You’re moving in together?”

“We already have. We decided it was the best thing to do,” Alexander admitted, shrugging slightly.

Hercules face shifted. He shot Alexander an annoyed look. Turned away and continued walking, silent. Alexander bit the inside of his cheek.

Hercules said nothing else. It was dark, the sky clear, still cold, even for early March. Alexander thought about the fact that his baby was due in less than four months. It felt so close.

It was a Friday night, nearing eight thirty. It was busy and loud. In his pockets, Alexander kept digging his nails into the palms of his hands, reluctant to break the silence. His phone vibrated, but he didn’t take it out to look. He was relieved, yet not.

They made it to the bar as it was nearing eight thirty. Hercules said nothing, even as they approached, people loitering outside with cigarettes. Alexander was expecting something. Felt thrown off when it wasn’t brought up again. He followed Hercules inside, feeling dejected.

* * *

 

 It was just four of them when they made it to the table. A smaller one this time, all of the squeezed in together. Martha, Eliza, Peggy and, to Alexander’s surprise, Thomas. Alexander hadn’t seen him at all that afternoon after he’d gotten home from work.

Hercules abandoned him to get a drink, which left Alexander to shuffle over to the table. Peggy caught sight of him first. Gave him a sweet smile and a wave.

“Alexander,” she called brightly, drawing out the ‘r’. Alexander gave her a smile. Caught an unoccupied chair from another table tucked in the corner and dragged it over.

“Are you even allowed in here?” Martha said. Gave him a suspicious squint as Eliza and Peggy shuffled their seats to make room for him. He dragged out an extra chair for Hercules.

Alexander shrugged. “Probably not,” he remarked, a little sarcastic. Martha gave him a smile.

Eliza clapped him on the back. “Ang is on her way. She got caught up at work. Do you want something to drink? Squash? Water?”

Across the table, Thomas snickered. Alexander patted Eliza on the hand.

“Some soda water sounds fantastic, actually. Are you going to get it for me? Because I’m in this seat now and I’m not getting back up.”

Eliza gave him a fake little laugh. Hercules materialized through the crowd with a glass for himself. Took the seat that Alexander set down on the other side of Peggy, next to Thomas.

“I’m going for another glass,” Martha chirped in, holding her almost empty wine glass between her index and thumb. “I’ll get you some water, dear.” She jumped up from the table. Alexander only sort of caught Hercules ‘hey, man” to someone, but he was too busy eyeing Martha suspiciously to pay attention.

The thing he’d learnt about Martha in the few times they’d caught up in his new living room, was that she was snarky at best, and distrustful at worst. Like, no matter what you said, she was terrible at keeping things to herself, and also very playful. Had a mean sense of humour and didn’t really care if she offended someone. Alexander found it a little amusing now that he knew that he couldn’t really talk to her about anything important or sensitive.

Briefly, Alexander wondered how Thomas could be attracted to someone like that.

Eliza’s “so!” was cut off by Angelica’s sudden appearance through the crowd, a jug of something blue and icy in her hand.

“All right, Ang?” Thomas muttered, seated back in his chair, a grin on his face. They played the shuffle game again, moving around the table until she was seated as well.

“Leave me alone. I need this right now,” she replied, a scowl on her face. She settled down between Alexander and Eliza and pressed a kiss to both of their cheeks. Eyed Alexander a little. “You’re here,” she remarked, a question in her tone.

“Surprise,” he muttered sarcastically. Angelica poured herself a glass and then shook another in the direction of Peggy, who was at the bottom of her own beer.

Eliza, apparently, wasn’t deterred though. Exclaimed another ‘so!” and launched into the details of being a part of an administration team at a public school. Alexander settled in his seat and listened, smiling a little. He had half a mind to ask Martha about his water when she made her appearance again, entirely drink less, but he also didn’t want to interrupt Eliza’s flow.

Eliza loved kids too, apparently, though having her own was never something she exclaimed a whole lot. Working with them was a thing she was interested in. Had considered doing something with childcare so that she could work at a nursery or something similar. Expressed a desire to illustrate children’s books as well, but no one knew where any of her motivation went after a while. It just kind of disappeared somewhere.

Alexander was almost startled when a drink was set down in front of him. He leaned forward and looked up. Caught the smiling gaze of a barkeeper he didn’t know.

“One soda water,” he said brightly. Alexander thanked him.

“And one Chardonnay for the lady,” he said to Martha, but Alexander was barely paying attention, because when he turned around, Peggy laughed louder than Alexander had ever heard her.

Alexander would have said something, or, at the very least, looked at her. Instead, as he went to instinctively curl his fingers around his glass, he saw it.

A goddamn baby bottle. Instead of his water just being in a tall glass, it was in a small baby bottle with little cartoonish pictures in it. Pink rattles and little yellow elephants and an orange rim.

Alexander was floored, really. Had no idea whether he wanted to be a little more stumped, or laugh as well.

At least Eliza had the good sense to giggle behind her hand. Peggy, instead, laughed and held her hands to her chest, stared at Alexander and the bottle.

Alexander shot her an unamused look. Angelica was sort of grinning, Martha looked like she was so close to losing it, and Thomas looked hopelessly lost. Hercules was unfazed.

Alexander sighed. Leaned forward in his chair, elbows on the table, and picked the bottle up. Gave it a little shake in Martha’s direction, who looked incredibly guilty.

“Martha,” he called across the table, voice level. Eliza let out a breath of laughter.

Martha mimicked him. Sat forward in her chair with her elbows on the tabletop. “Yes, dear?”

Alexander caught Thomas’s “Martha, Jesus” but he didn’t care for it. He stared down at the bottle again and decided that he was sort of amused by this.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” He asked her, tone soft and nice, like he was complimenting her dress or something.

Angelica chuckled and gave him a little shove. “You’re pregnant, Alexander. Don’t you know?”

Martha laughed. Alexander tried to bite back his grin. Sometimes her jokes weren’t too bad. She’d made good on her promise from months ago. Thomas had shoved the “1# dad” mug as far back into the cupboard when he moved in. When Alexander had found it, he almost suffocated from laughter. He made a point, now, to use it whenever possible.

Determined not to be bested, Alexander unscrewed the top and drank from the baby bottle anyway.  Even went as far as shaking it in Eliza’s direction when she went for another drink and asking for a refill. It was all highly amusing by that time. The conversation drifted. Most of the time, the conversations were split up amongst them, a hive of different people yelling across the table to chat about different things. Alexander found himself in a heated debate about different styles of cheese with Martha and Thomas, while Eliza leaned over him to chat with Hercules. Sometimes he’d get caught in it. Listen to Hercules talk about European landmarks and spending eight-plus hours on a bus every second day. Sometimes he’d lean further away from that and ask Martha about Thomas’s pet peeves or something equally less private.

It was dumb and funny. It was also sort of educational, apparently.

“You’re not a vegan,” Alexander muttered, leaning forward in his chair, amused.

“I am,” Thomas replied, grinning. Alexander frowned, which, apparently was funny because Thomas chuckled.

“You cook all the time,” was Alexander’s argument.

“I have never cooked anything with animal products in it,” he explained. Alexander sort of got stuck staring over Thomas’s shoulder, trying to figure out if he’d ever seen Thomas eat anything with dairy.

“But… “ he started, stuck. It would explain why there was were different brands of butter in the fridge. Soya milk. There was freaking soya milk in the fridge. “Oh,” Alexander finished, sounding dumb. He tapped his finger to his lips. Martha rubbed his shoulder. The conversation changed from there.

John didn’t make an appearance at all that night. Texted Hercules sometime around ten that he was helping pack up an exhibition at an art school. Apparently, his favourite thing to do, so no one was surprised. He’d even made a point to jokingly invite Alexander to it, knowing how much Alexander didn’t care for art.

At one point, Eliza leaned across the table to Thomas and muttered a “so, James is too good for us now? He barely shows” to which both Thomas and Martha told him that he had a girlfriend. Wasn’t the outgoing type anyway.

Eliza hunched down, then. Leaned to the side to lay her head on Alexander’s shoulder.

“Hi,” she laughed. Dislodged his hand from his glass (an actual one, thanks to Angelica) and laced their fingers together. It was funny to watch everyone get steadily tipsy and start to lose their composure. Angelica was, by fair considering she bought her drinks by the jug, the most gone. Possibly drunk. Alexander never had this chance. Was usually the one aiming to get drunk as well.

“Hi,” he smiled back. Gave her hand a squeeze.

She smiled up at him. Paused a few beats before she pulled her hand back and sat up. Shifted to the side so that she was facing him a little more, and put a hand on his stomach. Her grin was a bit infectious, her cheeks rosy.

“I like your baby,” she remarked, tone soft. Alexander chuckled, taken off guard. Okay, Eliza.

“I like my baby too,” he replied. Placed a hand over hers. He had to lean right back from the table now. Was sitting back in his chair because that was as close to it as he could get.

“I’m so excited to meet her,” she said, all smiles. Maybe she was drunk after all. Alexander hadn’t been counting her drinks, but it was close to eleven now. It was obviously a slow night for all of them.

Alexander was cut off before he could laugh at her. Eliza sat up straight in her seat and gave him an excited look.

“Oh, my god, Alexander!” She exclaimed, loud enough that she nearly dislodged Martha’s conversation behind her. “I’m so excited! She’s going to be so cute. I want to buy her stuff, and see her walk for the first time. That’s so crazy!”

Alexander flushed. Laughed, feeling her excitement. He was guilty of that too. Catherine’s advice had been to concentrate on the pregnancy first, likely because of Angelica’s experience, but sometimes he couldn’t help it. He’d found himself stopped by those stupid compilations on Facebook of babies doing something for the first time or reacting it something. It always made him feel elated.

“You can buy her a pram, if you really want to,” Alexander joked. That was sitting somewhere on the checklist, near the top, still unchecked. So far they’d covered every single garment possibly known to infants aged zero to one, and toiletries enough that they had a shelf all to themselves in Alexander’s bathroom.

Eliza shifted in her seat excitedly. “I will!” She exclaimed, which made Alexander laugh. Eliza got really loud when she was drunk, filter non-existent. Alexander was not expecting her to lean across the table and wage a hand in Thomas’s face.

“Tommy, I’ve got the pram covered, okay? I’m going to buy it for your baby.”

Martha, who’d been in conversation with Thomas, laughed. Thomas deadpanned for a second, perhaps caught off guard, before he caught Eliza’s flailing hand and held it tight. Leaned across the table so they were closer.

“Eliza, do want ever you like, my love, but don’t ever call me ‘Tommy’ again.” Alexander crossed his arms over his chest and laughed at Thomas’s overly kind tone. Eliza flashed him a grin.

“Eliza, I’m holding you to that. I’m going home tonight and I’m going to scratch pram off the list and if you let me down, I’m not going to be happy,” Alexander remarked.

From the corner of his eye, he could see the way Hercules was listening just a little bit, his expression blank. Their conversation the whole night hadn’t felt off in the slightest. Hercules almost seemed like he was over his mood, but Alexander wasn’t going to be fooled.

“What else do you need? There are nice curtains in there, now,” Martha asked Alexander. Thomas threw her a look.

“A crib, Martha. Toys, bedding. The baby can’t sleep in the curtains,” he said sarcastically. Alexander chuckled.

Martha threw him an almost scathing look. “Shut up, you know what I meant.”

Eliza shifted away suddenly. Reached behind her chair to get to her handbag.

“We’re going to get all that stuff soon. When Angelica’s ready to lend us the car.” Alexander side-eyed her accusingly, but she was too deep in her conversation with Hercules to catch it.

“Can we do something real quick?” Eliza asked, phone in hand, her brows furrowed while she concentrated. She leaned her elbows on the table and aimed her phone to Alexander.

She had a website pulled up. Alexander groaned, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling either. He’d been thinking about it lately as well.

Martha leaned over Eliza to peer at whatever she was showing Alexander.

“Oh, Thomas already has one,” she remarked sneakily. Thomas leaned closer and squinted at her.

“Don’t bring me into your shit, Martha. What do I already have?”

“Baby names!” Eliza exclaimed. Started scrolling through the top one hundred popular girl names.

Alexander gazed up at Thomas, who was smiling and looking a little guilty. “You already have one?” He asked. They’d never discussed it. Alexander thought that maybe it was too early.

Thomas shrugged. “A few,” he murmured. Alexander barely heard him over the din of the bar.

He leaned his head on his elbow. “Okay. You want to tell me what they are? Considering this is a group effort.”

Eliza slapped his shoulder. Shoved the phone closer. “Isabelle?” She asked, all business. “It’s a classic.”

Alexander stared down at the screen, then to Eliza. Gave her a shove. “Eliza, stop.”

She looked up at him. “What? I’m trying to help.”

Alexander was wondering how anyone even picked a name for their new-born. How had his mother settled on Alexander? How had anyone decided that Rachel was the perfect name?

“How are you supposed to pick?” He asked. Aimed the question more in Thomas’s direction.

“You pick one you like, Alexander. It doesn’t have to be hard,” Eliza answered, eyes down at her phone again.

“Thomas likes the name ‘Martha’,” Martha remarked, a hand on Thomas’s arm, but she was grinning in Alexander’s direction.

Thomas slapped her hand away. “I’d rather hang myself,” he muttered.

“Same,” Alexander chuckled. He smiled at Martha’s brief frown.

Eliza slapped a hand on the table top. “Mary?”

Alexander scoffed. “Are you kidding?” Eliza ignored him.

“I like Mary,” Thomas chuckled. Alexander almost rolled his eyes.

“Shut up, Thomas, no you don’t.”

Martha was leaning against Eliza, both of them stopping to point at a name before moving on. Alexander briefly turned to the other three. Listened to Peggy talk about her experience at a jazz club.

“So, speaking of names,” Martha piped in. Dislodged herself from Eliza’s side to stare imploringly at Alexander. “There’s something else that needs to be d – ow! Thomas, fuck!”

She flinched in her seat, almost hitting Eliza in the process of shifting away. Thomas had a hand under the table, but Alexander couldn’t have guessed what he did. Pinched her, maybe?

He was caught by the shift in Thomas’s expression. It was hard, serious, his brows pulled right down into a frown. He shot the look at Martha, his mouth a grim line.

“Martha, no,” he muttered, tone to match his expression. Alexander only just caught it.

Martha shifted as well. Her expression, her posture. She settled back in her seat. Stared at Thomas for a few secnds. It was so weird and abrupt that even Eliza looked up.

“Okay?” Eliza asked casually, drawing out the word.

Thomas settled back into his seat. “Yes,” he muttered. Broke eye contact to take a drink from his beer. Martha turned and gave Eliza a smile.

“Okay, give us another then,” she prompted, and Eliza seemed all too happy to forget about it. Alexander leaned further into his hand and tried to catch Thomas’s eye. A futile effort, because Thomas expression shifted to something like mild annoyance and pointedly didn’t look in Alexander’s direction.

Well, okay. _That_ certainly didn’t make him a little bit worried.

* * *

 

 A hand landed on his waist. It was startling, a little. He was standing at the bar, a few notes in hand, people bumping into him here and there. Alexander glanced over his shoulder. Thomas came to stand next to him, his hand sliding over Alexander’s ribs.

“You want me to call an Uber?”

Alexander had been zoning out so much that he had to pause for a second. “What?”

Thomas grinned. “You look like you’re about to drop dead. Do you want to go?”

Honestly, Alexander was. He hadn’t thought about how boring it might be to spend hours sitting at a table, watching all of his friends get steadily drunk while he remained sober. It was a quarter past twelve, and he very much wanted to go home.

“Oh.” He paused, his mind lagging. “Yeah, probably.”

The hand curled around his side started kneading. Alexander could smell his cologne.

“All right, I’ll call an Uber,” he said. Alexander warmed. Thomas turned away, pulled back, intent on leaving to do just that. Alexander reached out and snagged his wrist briefly, jostling the person next to him. Thomas turned to look back at him.

“Okay?”

“You’re leaving as well?” 

Thomas shrugged. Came in a little closer so that Alexander could hear him over the chatter. He grinned. “You’re not going to let me take you home?” He chuckled, tone low. “We’re not doing that anymore?”

It took a second for him to understand what Thomas meant. Alexander’s expression shifted into a deadpan. He responded to Thomas’s laugh by shoving him in the stomach. Turned back to the bar and ignored Thomas poking him in the side before he sauntered off again.

Actually, getting laid sounded great, right about now. Being pregnant did wonders for his sex drive.

He weaved his way back to the table once he had Eliza’s beer and Martha’s wine in hand. Set them down on the table just as Thomas was shrugging on his coat.

“You’re leaving?” Eliza asked, brows turned down a little. Alexander gave her a smile.

“You might be having the time of your life, ‘Liza, but watching you guys drink and get loud isn’t all that fun for me.”

Peggy gave a little laugh at that.

He put his own jacket on when Thomas gestured to him with his phone. Gave the girls a kiss and promised Hercules that they’d catch up before he had to leave again. Followed Thomas out into the chilly March air with his hands in his pockets.

Alexander was silent when he climbed into the back of the waiting car, Thomas following. Did his seat belt up and leaned his head against the window. He wasn’t up for much conversation. He was tired, really. And hungry. Wanted to go home and make something to eat. Something savoury and greasy. Change into something more comfortable, crack the window open a little and crawl under his two blankets.

A weird habit, and a new one, apparently.

Thankfully, neither was Thomas, who, when Alexander looked over, looked like he was ready for bed as well. They sat quietly, the car radio playing softly for a time. Squinted through the glass and watched the traffic stop and go. It felt strange to watch each building go past and not recognize them. Not like he caught many cabs or Ubers anyway, but at least he could recognize each street and building on his way to his old apartment. Now, he lived in a building a little more central to things in terms of shops. A Whole Foods a block over on the high street, a barber, the post office, the park. It was convenient, but more so, it was unfamiliar. He liked the new apartment. He liked not eating dinner in what was technically his bedroom and he liked that he had a bathroom and that the kitchen was so big. It was definitely growing on him.

A good twenty minutes passed before the car started to slow. Thomas startled a little bit. Enough for Alexander to catch it out of the corner of his eye. Alexander blinked out the window and realised they were coming up to their building. Couldn’t even make it out in the shadows cast by the street lamps until they stopped entirely.

Alexander grunted, threw out a “thank you” to the driver over the top of Thomas and pushed the door open. Welcomed the cold air when he closed it behind him and wandered around the car, onto the footpath. He walked up the stairs after Thomas. Watched him dig around in his pocket for his keys. Waited while Thomas fiddled with it for a second, before he turned to Alexander slightly.

“What?” Alexander asked, brows knitted together. “Do you need help opening the door?” He muttered dryly.

Thomas laughed, very clearly still intoxicated. “No, I was just thinking about how much I really want some fries right now.”

That, apparently, wasn’t what Alexander had been expecting. Fair call, though. Alexander’s favourite time to eat something greasy was when he was drunk, so he could see the point.

He chuckled. “Cook some them,” he muttered, the hunger becoming more apparent now that they were talking about food. “I want some too.”

Thomas grinned at him. Took his key back out of the lock and put them in his pocket. Alexander frowned.

“Come on,” Thomas murmured. Briefly pulled at the sleeve of Alexander’s jacket as he made his way back down the few steps. Alexander floundered, confused.

“What? Where are you going?”

Thomas shoved his hands into his pockets and grinned. Didn’t break stride as he walked and turned back to repeated himself.

Alexander stood on the step, at a loss for a few seconds. Watched Thomas make some distance, unconcerned whether Alexander was following. He sighed; bit his lip for a second. Turned slightly to stare at the door. Where the hell was there even to go at this time of night? Alexander wanted to go to bed, not go on a midnight stroll. It was nearing one o’clock in the morning.

He trudged slowly does the stairs, scowling, fingers curled around his keys in his pocket. Picked up his pace so that he could catch up.

“Where are you going?” He grumbled. Fell into step behind Thomas, who was still smiling.

“You’ll see. It’s around the corner.”

They were headed towards the park and the high street, at this point. Alexander followed silently, a bit miffed, unsure as too why he was bothering. Turned right onto the high street where a few shopfronts and signs were lit up, even though they were closed. A travel agent, a Starbucks, the post office. It wasn’t until Thomas ushered Alexander crossed the street that he knew where they were going.

“Are you serious?” Alexander remarked, but there was no heat to it because his stomach was growling. His mind immediately lingered on how much he really wanted some chicken nuggets.

Thomas chuckled and gestured for him to enter first. Alexander sighed, his face briefly lit by the yellow of the McDonalds sign. It wasn’t busy; a few people lingered, waiting for their order. A worker was sweeping the floor and under the tables.

Alexander shuffled over to one of the screens, chose the eat-in option.

“What you want?” He asked. Picked a meal and his drink. Thomas lingered behind him.

“You’re not going to eat twenty chicken nuggets,” he stated, a ridiculous tone in his voice.

“What you want?” Alexander asked again, ignoring him. He tapped the fries menu considering that was probably Thomas’s only option. “How many?”

“I can pay for my own, you know,” Thomas muttered. Alexander sighed and turned over his shoulder to give Thomas an exasperated look.

“Do you want free food, or not?”

Thomas chuckled, eyes still on the screen.

“Three large and a small Fanta,” he replied.

Alexander took care of it. Tapped his card against the machine and collected the paper receipt with the order number on it. Moved over to the counter to wait with a few other lingering people. It wasn’t cold but sat somewhere in that weird temperature zone where Alexander wasn’t hot, but he was still sweating. He had to stifle a yawn, his body strung out, his ankles aching. The aches were _all_ starting to set in now. Alexander hadn’t realised how much extra weight a baby put on the mother until he’d Googled it.

Alexander turned slightly to face Thomas, a thought coming to him.

“What names did you pick?” He asked. The baby name thing had been brought up several times throughout the night, although, after that first time, Thomas was oddly subdued about the whole thing.

Thomas blinked at him sleepily. He looked like he was ready for bed.

“For what? For the baby?” He breathed out heavily. Alexander nodded.

“I don’t know. I just pulled the ones I liked off a website.”

Alexander hadn’t even thought to do that yet. “Give me one.”

Thomas shrugged. “Mila,” he muttered, his jaw clenching.

Alexander flushed a little. Tried to quell the weird embarrassment that suddenly hit him. Sometimes it was so foreign to discuss this kind of topic with Thomas. So foreign to acknowledge that everything they were planning was for the life they were going to be spending together. Alexander also thought that maybe it was just Thomas. That he was sharing something with Thomas that consumed his heart and made him want to put all of his love into. That Thomas also felt the same. When was the last time he’d shared that same feeling with Thomas?

When his number was called, Thomas grabbed both of the drinks and straws, while Alexander collected the tray and brought it over to one of the tables.

“You give me one,” Thomas requested, while Alexander stole one of his fries.

Alexander sighed. “I haven’t really though about it,” he confessed. Flicked open the lid of his food, his stomach growling from the scent. He didn’t see the expression on Thomas’s face.

“Not any?” Thomas asked, his tone light. Alexander shrugged.

“I’ve been reading this book. I’ve been busy with other stuff.” He bit into his food, burning his tongue in the process. Sat back in his chair and glanced at Thomas.

“What’s it like? How often do things change? Is it always a weekly thing?” Alexander hummed. Stretched his legs out to the side of the table.

He thought about it for a few seconds. He’d picked up one of those generic week-by-week pregnancy guides that gave tips on nutritional food and expectations. All of the must-have’s and tips on when to start building the nursery.

“She’s the size of corn, by the way,” Thomas cut in, derailing his thoughts for a second. It was such an abrupt statement that Alexander laughed a little.

“What?”

Thomas was digging into his own food, a smile on his face. He shrugged, his expression matching Alexander’s. “I don’t know. That’s what I read. Eleven inches long. I don’t know what this thing is where people compare unborn children to fruit and vegetables.” He paused for a second. Leaned forward to pin Alexander with a serious expression. “But, just so you know, our child is the size of a corn cob.”

Maybe it was just Thomas’s ridiculously amused tone; Alexander laughed. Leaned forward as well so he could lean his chin on his hand and eat.

“I read that it was a mango,” he replied. Laughed a little more at how ridiculous it was. Thomas’s frowned. He gave Alexander a slight deadpan look that had Alexander stifling tired laughter into his hand.

“One of us is wrong, then. A corn cob and a mango are completely different sizes,” he muttered, amused as well. Alexander warmed with his amusement.

The conversation lapped briefly while they both ate. Alexander was so hungry that he didn’t care to take his time and eat at an acceptable pace. Ignored the grimace that Thomas briefly shot at him. It was a comfortable silence, as short-lived as it was.

“You haven’t felt her move yet?” Thomas asked, almost done with his second serving of fries. His shifted slightly; a leg bumped into Alexander’s.

Alexander licked a bit of ketchup off his fingers. Wiped his hands with a napkin and shook his head. “I thought I did a couple of weeks ago while I was at work. Syalla told me it sounded more like a fake contraction.”

Thomas stopped picking at his food for a second. Looked up and shot Alexander a mildly concerned look. “That’s kind of early, isn’t it? I didn’t think you got those until later.”

Alexander had thought the same. Honestly, that first time, sitting at his desk, and he’d felt the way his muscles in his abdomen had clenched. It had scared the life out of Alexander.

“Yeah, me too. Syalla said it varies. She said I’d know if it was the baby moving. That it would feel like an actual kick or something.”

He’d only had a few since then. Five or six maybe, and they didn’t hurt. They just felt weird. Clenching, like the first day of his heat and the few that led up to it.

The concerned look slowly fell from Thomas’s face. He went back to finishing his fries. Alexander’s leg fidgeted under the table, his knee knocking into Thomas every once in a while. He sipped at his drink, his stomach pleasantly full. He felt pretty content.

He finished off his nuggets as Thomas was excusing himself to the bathroom. He came back rubbing a hand over his face. Alexander wondered, briefly, how quickly he was sobering up.

“Ang’ll give us the car next week. Doesn’t have anywhere to be,” he muttered. Wrapped the paper tube that previously had his straw in it around his index. He returned Thomas’s little smile. “I want meatballs.”

Obviously, there was no context there, so Thomas shot him a weird look. Alexander chuckled and didn’t care to clarify right that second.

“You just ate a shit load of nuggets,” Thomas remarked, a little incredulous. Alexander grinned lazily.

“From Ikea. They have really nice meatballs.”

Thomas leaned back and rubbed a hand over his jaw. “You say that weirdest shit sometimes,” he muttered. Alexander didn’t doubt it.

“Okay,” Thomas started. “Let’s do that. We’ll need to think about it though. I don’t think we’re going to fit everything in the first time. I don’t know how big the flatpacks are going to be. The cribs probably the biggest, right?”

Alexander shrugged. Thought back to their list. “Probably need a few rounds. I want everything to match, so… “ He chuckled at Thomas’s immediate impassive expression.

“We’re not buying anything unnecessary. We don’t need a wardrobe, there’s already a closet in her room.” He leaned forward, his expression a little more serious. Got in close, so that Alexander couldn’t look away. “If we come back with fifty different wall clocks, Alexander, I’m going to fucking kill you.” His tone, for the most part, was serious, but Alexander knew there wasn’t any heat in it. Alexander had a thing for a few clocks he’d found online and desperately wanted. Only, he really couldn’t make up his mind. He’d made a joke to Thomas, that if there was something he was unsure how to choose from, they could just buy all of them.

Alexander laughed, his hand fidgeting, his finger tapping against his lip and chin. Thomas leaned back again. Alexander opened his mouth to protest jokingly, but he was cut off. As expected.

“She doesn’t even need a bloody clock. You might be pretty smart Alexander, but she’s not going to come out of the womb able to read analogue.”

The laughter came from his stomach this time. Overtired and bored and highly amused about the way Thomas got semi-serious about certain things. The way he’d defend his point with reluctance. Like he didn’t really think he’d have to be having this conversation. Alexander laughed into the back of his hand.

“To be fair, though – “ he was ready to say, but Thomas cut him off again.

“No, Alexander,” he chuckled, smiling like Alexander had just said what he’d been expecting. “Don’t give me that “to be fair” bullshit. Your list of what goes in her room is too much.” Alexander flushed.

“You’re a bit of a minimalist, though,” he remarked weakly. He wasn’t trying to argue Thomas’s point. In this case, Thomas was correct. Alexander was so close to just throwing in the towel and going absolutely crazy on the room.

Thomas leaned close, centimetres apart, and fixed Alexander with a weak scowl. “Maybe, yes, but do you know how much unnecessary shit you have?”

Alexander frowned slightly. “I barely own anything. Like what?”

“You have a thousand different copies of the same few books.”

Alexander chuckled. Thomas had noticed that?

“I have a good reason for that, though. Sometimes I like to make notes in them. So, I have one for notes, and one for just reading.”

Thomas was silent for a few seconds. Clearly couldn’t see his point. He shook his head. Made a frantic hand gesture that obviously meant he didn’t understand. Alexander smiled.

“There’s no… Alexander…” Then he just stopped, his tone scattered, like he was speechless. He narrowed his eyes at Alexander for a few seconds. Looked as if he was trying to decipher something. Remained silent. Alexander kept up his grin.

“That doesn’t make sense. Whatever. I don’t want to know what your logic is,” he dismissed. Stretched back in his chair, their ankles pressed together. Alexander dug a fingernail into his bottom lip and laughed. It made sense to _him_ so, whatever.

* * *

 

 It was ten to two when they stumbled back down the street. Alexander stuck close, their shoulders bumping more than occasionally, trying to leech as much warmth as he could get. He dug his keys out of his back pocket. Reached out for the hand railing on the stairs.

Thomas put a hand on his waist, Alexander guessed, to help him up. He couldn’t feel the heat of it, just the impression. With the light air they shared, the lack of tension, Alexander relished the touch. He keyed open the door, the hand dropping from his waist as they wandered over to the elevator. It was all quiet; Alexander was exhausted.

His movements were lethargic as he toed off his shoes in the apartment. He’d resorted to barely lacing them up anymore, mostly because he couldn’t bend down to unlace them. Shrugged out of his jacket and swung it over his arm. Thomas passed him in the kitchen, both of them going different ways. He yawned; placed a hand over Alexander’s ribs, under his elbow and squeezed briefly. Murmured a chaste “goodnight” before he disappeared into his own room and shut the door.

Alexander sighed. Rubbed his back while he shuffled into his own room and hung his jacket up in his own closet. Took his time getting changed into his sweats and a worn tee shirt. Cracked the window open before he went to brush his teeth. He fell back into bed and laid down on his left side, cocooned in his blankets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again with a late chapter! I have a life sometimes, so I'm sorry if that happens from time to time.
> 
> About this chapter, just so I don't upset anyone, I did some googling about the french fries in the US, just to double check they weren't mixed with any animal products. My finding was: I have no fucking clue. There are, literally, fifty different things in the french fries, which doesn't make any sense to me, because they are LITERALLY just potatoes, salt, and oil.
> 
> On another note, and a little more important, this fic will be longer than twenty chapters. I've really thought it through, and I guess because I'm so disappointed with my last chapter, I really don't want to rush anything for the sake of meeting the chapter count. I want everything to flow and feel natural, so I'm not sure by how many yet, but that will be happening.
> 
> Of course, thank you for all the lovely comments! I'm always so nervous to read them, but you guys are so good to me!!


	14. Chapter 14

Thomas was standing in the kitchen, apple in one hand and his phone in the other, when Alexander got in. He shed his jacket and bag in the hallway and toed off his shoes.

Thomas turned and gave him a weird look. “Where’ve you been? I thought you were still asleep.”

Alexander dumped his things near the hall down to his room and opened the fridge. “Gym,” he muttered. Took the orange juice out and fetched a glass.

“Angelica wants to know when we’re coming,” Thomas informed him.

Alexander glanced down at the stack of mail down on the counter as he drank. “I’ll shower and then we can go?” He asked. Tapped the glass against his lip as he rifled through them.

“All right, I’ll let her know then. You want to eat before we go?”

Alexander finished his glass and washed it out. “I already had a banana,” he replied. Picked up his things in one hand and turned towards his room. “No. Shut up,” he called as he rounded the doorway.

Thomas chuckled behind him. “I wasn’t going to say anything,” he grumbled back, amusement in his tone. Alexander threw his jacket and his bag on the bed and shuffled over to his closet.

“Sure,” he mumbled back. Picked out the first shirt he saw, and a pair of jeans. Laid them all over his arm and walked back out into the hall.

“You want to go over this one more time?” Thomas asked him, still standing in the kitchen. Alexander turned back.

“No. It’s pointless. You can’t tell me that we’re going to get there, and you’re going to stick to the list,” he responded. Walked into the bathroom and dumped his clothes in a heap in the closed toilet lid. He pulled down the knob to turn on the shower. “Hey, do you think she has enough socks?” He called out sarcastically.

“Give it a rest, hypocrite. Do you know how many things this – “

Alexander kind of tuned out, his attention elsewhere. His hand, somewhere between pulling his hair tie out and closing the bathroom door, snapped lightening quick to his stomach. He breathed in sharply, his heart rate picking up. He pressed his fingers into the lower part of the bump.

There was a kick. A sharp movement in his stomach that didn’t feel like anything else he’d been experiencing. Alexander paused. Gazed down at his stomach and just stilled, his breath picking up through his nose. His teeth dug sharply into the side of his cheek.

She was moving. Alexander couldn’t place the feeling. It didn’t feel like a fake contraction. His muscles weren’t clenching or tense. It was a distinct movement. He concentrated on it, tried to identify what it felt like exactly. He felt it once, hard, and then again. Almost like a butterfly fluttering around, or something frantic trapped inside him. Alexander sucked in a breath, his heart beating all over the place. It was stark and immediate, the way he went from nothing to a sudden movement.

“Thomas,” he sighed, his voice low. Shuffled back until he was standing in the doorway of the bathroom. Thomas was still standing in the kitchen, phone in hand, apparently not having heard him.

“Thomas,” he rumbled, louder, both hands against his stomach. Thomas looked up briefly, distracted. Almost did a double take with the way he expression immediately shifted into concern. Alexander’s posture, his expression, must have been pretty obvious because Thomas set his phone down and came a little closer.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his brows pulled down. Alexander held his arm out.

“Come. Come here. She’s moving,” he murmured, his voice breathless. Another bump, another movement. It was almost contradictory, the way it felt so small, yet was so jarring.

Thomas’s expression shifted instantly. He made his way over, where Alexander grabbed his wrist and set his hand next to his own, lower down on the bump. Thomas looked at him wide-eyed.

“Just wait, just wait,” Alexander breathed, concentrating. “She’ll move.” Kept his gaze with Thomas, his teeth set hard on his bottom lip.

“I might not be able to feel it,” Thomas mumbled. Set his other hand on Alexander’s side and pressed a little harder.

No, maybe not, but Alexander wanted him to. It felt so big, surely he’d be able to feel even the tiniest thing. He looked so desperate, as well. Like he really wanted to.

The shower was still running. They stood there long enough that Alexander started to feel the steam stick to the back of his neck. He bit his lip harder. Waited. She’d done it so many times, was that it? How many times a day was he to expect movement.

Thomas gave him a smile. Moved his hands in tiny circled against Alexander’s stomach, rubbing gently. “Maybe another time. I’m probably not going to be able to feel it for a few weeks.” He pulled his hands away.

Alexander frowned, dissatisfied. “Sorry,” he muttered, even though he knew it wasn’t his fault.

Thomas looked a little surprised. Brought a hand back up to linger on his bump. “Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault,” he insisted. “Go shower, Angelica’s getting impatient that we haven’t left.”

He left Alexander there to scoop his phone back off the counter, and Alexander didn’t linger. Closed the behind him, one hand still on his stomach, waiting.

* * *

 

 They left the house at a quarter to eleven. Caught the train to Beverly road in Brooklyn, both of them sitting next to each other. Angelica’s answered the door in a bit of a whirlwind. Pieces of hair sticking out of her bun, a half-eaten sandwich in her hand.

“Hey, thanks for finally showing up,” he remarked, moving inside to let them in.

“Yeah, sorry,” Alexander mumbled as he passed her. “It was the baby’s fault. She kicked.”

Thomas chuckled as Angelica closed the door and shot him a slightly wide-eyed look.

Alexander always like Angelica’s apartment. It was always so clean and colourful. Art on the walls, little statuettes and large frames of filtered landmarks. The furniture always unmatched tastefully in colour and design. The windows were large in every room. There was always light coming in from somewhere. Everything open and connected.

“Oh, really?” Angelica asked. Followed Alexander, who made his way into the open space of the living room and sat down on the edge of the ocean blue sofa. “That’s nice.”

She took another bite of her sandwich and walked over to the side table by the piano. Picked up a set of keys in a little bowl.

“Sorry, I don’t have time to chat. I’m just about to head out. You can take John’s car, it’s bigger,” she said. Jingled the keys in the air and motioned for them to follow her. Held the door open for the both of them as they followed her back out of the apartment and into the elevator. Took the three floors down to the car park.

“Give me a call when you’re done with it and I’ll pick it up sometime after work,” she told them. Pressed the button for the parking garage. “He doesn’t get back until Monday night, so do what you need.”

John’s work car was a Nissan X-Trail that they often took with them on road trips, since that was their things. It was spacious; big enough, surely, to fit all of the furniture that they were hoping to buy.

She unlocked the car and waggled the keys in Thomas’s direction with a “please look after it”.

“Thanks, Ang,” Alexander said. Returned her smile.

They both climbed in after Angelica opened the gate to the garage, Alexander in the passenger seat. Thomas took a second adjusting everything before they gave her a wave. Set out into the busy Brooklyn streets.

They didn’t have far to go. It felt pretty much around the corner considering how many time Alexander had been there. It used to be a trip, sometimes. When Angelica first moved in and no one had anything to do, so they’d all get together and make a trip, just so they could wander the vast warehouse of household and outdoor items and buy things that they didn’t necessarily need. It became a sort of Schuyler-Hamilton ritual after one of them moved. Alexander knew the floor plan of the showcases like the back of his hand.

It was weird now, to think that he wasn’t there for a new kettle or a pack of wine glasses he would never use. He was building a nursery.

Thomas set the radio to a random music station and turned the volume down. The lapse in conversation had Alexander leaning against the window, both hands on his belly, just in case. He was trying to fight the exhaustion from waking up early on a terrible night of sleep. The excitement was possibly the reason. The idea of filling the nursery. Finally.

 Her closet was already done up. She had socks, jumpsuits, dresses, leggings. A few of her own little towels and bibs. Tiny shoes with buckles and thin laces. Headbands with crochet features on them. More clothes than Alexander was even sure was necessary. It was all in the closet, either hanging up or folded neatly in the drawers. Most of it was from online, where both Alexander and Thomas had made a habit of sitting on the floor over one of their laptops and searching website after website after website.

Now all they needed was the furniture. Three flatpacks, from what they could tell from the website. They’d have to put the back seats down and slip it all in, but Alexander couldn’t imagine that it wasn’t going to fit.

Thomas found a parking spot not too far from the entrance. Locked the car behind them as they entered under the bright red welcome sign underneath the complex.

“The bassinet should come on Monday,” Thomas remarked as they both took the elevator up to the showroom floor. It was busy like Alexander expected it to be.

“Okay, cool. I think the only other thing we need to worry about is the baby monitors,” Alexander replied. Stifled a yawn into his hand and found one of the baskets that were displayed at the beginning. Took out a little pencil and a couple sheaves of lined paper.

The linoleum floor was the clear path through the showroom. They didn’t linger. Alexander was too excited. Both of them wandering through endless amounts of displays for kitchens and living rooms and stylish furniture. He knew, in a weird sort of way, where the nursery furniture was. A testament to how many time he’d been here.

Each display sort of had its own room, and there was no lapse in effort when it came to recreating each sectioned off room. There were several showcases for them, each with their own design in furniture and room features. They’d already spoken about it. About what design they wanted, how fancy they wanted to get. Alexander wasn’t trying to impress anyone with his decorating abilities, and Thomas was too much of a minimalist to really care. Their baby sure wasn’t going to compliment or complain about the lack of wall decal.

The colour they were going for was white. They both wandered through until they found the design they were looking for. Wrote down the number for the crib, the changing table, and a cabinet that all belonged in the same series. They both lingered in some of the rooms. One had a light fixture that Thomas wrote the name down for. Alexander liked some of the little storage boxes that could fit into the closet or on the cabinet somewhere. They were going to need room for nappies and baby wipes.

All in all, it really didn’t take that long. Alexander knew that the second part was where it was going to be hard. They knew what they wanted, what they’d scoped out on the website, but finding them without going overboard was probably going to be a different story.

* * *

 

 Thomas gave an exasperated sigh.

“You want to take a break now? If we get this done quick enough, we can set a few things up when we get back.”

Alexander was barely listening. He already had a tray in hand.

“Come on man,” he said, tone light. The smell of the restaurant was almost tantalizing. Alexander’s stomach growled. “I told you that I wanted meatballs. It’s lunchtime and I’m starving. I’m sure they’ll be something you can eat.”

Thomas shot him an annoyed look. Alexander smiled and left him standing there. Made his way over to the line and placed his tray down on the metal rails. Thomas didn’t follow, as far as Alexander could tell. Although, when he looked back, he was nowhere to be found.

The line was swift. He bought a bottle of water and shoved it down on the tray next to his hot plate of meatballs and mashed potato and the plain salad he’d picked up. Paid for everything before he collected the cutlery he needed and a few sachets of salt and pepper.

Thomas wasn’t too far away, sitting at a table near one of the windows. Alexander wandered over and set his tray down. Thomas glanced at him before his gazed down at what was on Alexander’s plate.

“A gift,” Alexander exclaimed brightly. Sat down opposite and dropped the plastic bowl of salad on the table.

Thomas pursed his lips and snatched it up. “Wow. Thank you for being so generous,” he muttered sarcastically. Alexander grinned and picked up his fork. Leaned his elbows on the table and dug into his potato first. Thomas took one of the forks off the tray and started picking at his own food.

 “We’re going to have to start thinking about nursery soon,” Thomas started. Picked aside a few chunks of cucumber.

Alexander hummed, chewing. “I’m going to take leave sometime in June. I can have twelve weeks, so I don’t know if ‘soon’ is necessary.”

Thomas leaned forward. “Alexander, if we don’t pick something soon, we’re not going to get a spot anywhere.”

Alexander leaned his head on his palm and stabbed a meatball with his fork. “Actually, I was thinking…” he started. Trailed off as he ate. Thomas folded his arms in front of him, an impatient expression on his face. “Just before my leave is up, in September I think, you can file for yours. That way, we don’t have to worry about the whole nursery or childcare thing for the next couple of months.”

 He took a few seconds to eat, eyes on his food. Uncapped his water bottle and drank. He only looked up when Thomas didn’t reply.

“You can take leave, right?” It was all unpaid, of course, but they were both entitled to it.

Thomas shrugged. “Sure,” he remarked, his food somewhat abandoned. He paused for a few beats. “You don’t want to just put her in a nursery?” He asked.

Alexander tapped his fork against his lip briefly. “Well, yeah, we’ll have to,” he started obviously. Gazed back down at his food. “Just… After. January, maybe.”

Thomas hummed and fidgeted with his fork a little. “We’ll see how it goes,” he remarked quietly. “I didn’t actually plan on taking any leave.”

Alexander paused and looked up. Thomas gaze was somewhere to his right. “What? Why?”

Thomas looked at him. “I just don’t think it’s necessary. Work’s busy.”

His tone was calm, conversational. Alexander had to take a deep breath to stop himself from saying something harsh.

“So’s mine, Thomas,” he muttered quietly. “You don’t think this is a little more important?” He tried to phrase it as gently as he could. He didn’t want to start a fight.

Thomas’s brows pulled down. He sat a little more forward and placed both hands palm down on the table. “I know it is, but they don’t have to be separate. There’s nothing wrong with me not wanting to take leave. I just don’t think it’s necessary when there are people that can look after her. It’s going to happen eventually”

Alexander couldn’t understand that, though. “Instead of you?” There’d never been a doubt that Thomas was going to take some time off to help him, until now.

Thomas pursed his lips. “Is that a problem?”

He didn’t know what to think of that. He had to pause and mull it over.

“I just thought you’d want to,” he muttered, frowning. Started picking at his food again. Maybe he was just interpreting it wrong, but it wasn’t a nice feeling to know that Thomas didn’t want to take time off to look after his new-born child. Alexander himself was anticipating it. Almost excited. Just under three whole months that he’d get to relax and spend looking after his daughter. Maybe it was going to be a little bit boring, but he wasn’t so worried about that. He could fill the time. Thomas seemed pretty sure in his decision, but perhaps Alexander could do some convincing.

He finished eating quickly after that, the conversation falling into something stale. Rode the escalator down, hands in his pockets, annoyance lingering.

Downstairs always looked like an organized mess. Stacks upon stacks of glassware, stools, lamps, bedding. The walls lined with shelves of photo frames, random artwork, light fixtures. Alexander knew they didn’t need any of it, but it was hard to walk past something and resist the urge to buy it. Still, it felt so easy to forget about everything else. Like standing between plastic cutlery and little sippy cups with a bowl in the shape of a frog was somewhat healing. They both did their own thing. Thomas fiddled with a nightlight that changed colour when you tapped it, while Alexander leaned over their trolley and inspected the sets of thin blankets that were specifically for swaddling. They picked up a mattress and wedged it in between a fluffy rug in the shape of a cloud, and a few small storage baskets that could fit in the cabinet they’d pick up later.

It was slow going, and kind of therapeutic, in a way. Both of them only sort of sticking together. Alexander tended to leave the trolley with Thomas and wander off somewhere else. He came to an understanding, despite how much he’d desired everything to match, that he didn’t really care once it came to choosing. He threw in a grey, white and yellow throw blanket next to a soft, orange rattle in the shape of a cat that Thomas picked out. Got stuck in the infant toy section choosing which ones to get.

“What is this?” Alexander mumbled, trying to sound exasperated. He wasn’t; he was having too much fun with this. Thomas was taking this a little more seriously than expected. Was stopping to investigate something thoroughly and for a few minutes, at least, until he decided whether it was worth buying.

Thomas shrugged. “You put the blocks in the thing,” he replied unhelpfully, distracted by a rattling ball.

Alexander picked the item up. It was a toy in the shape of a house, wrapped in hard plastic. The roof of the house had different shapes cut out of it, and each time he shifted it, he could hear the wooden blocks tumbling into each other on the inside. He placed it back into the trolley and moved on.

The textiles section was where Alexander got stuck. They picked up the mattress cover and a few sets of fitted sheets. The designs for the duvet covers all had their own display, hanging up on rails. Alexander stood for a full minute with his finger to his lip, trying to decide which one he liked, before Thomas poked him in the side.

“There’s not much to choose from. You get the ones with the pink clouds or the ones with the blue clouds.” He paused, eyes on the duvet and pillowcase set that was already in Alexander’s hand. “Or you get all of them. We should probably get a few.”

They didn’t need more the two, Alexander assumed.

“Okay, you pick one,” he muttered. Threw the one he was holding into the trolley. It was grey and yellow and matched a few of the other things he’d picked up.

Thomas turned to the basket with the pink cloud designs on it and threw it into the trolley as well.

By the time they made it out to where the flatpacks were shelved, they had a few more textile products that Alexander had anticipated. A weird sleeping bag that looked like a dress at first, five small blankets, because Alexander was pretty sure he could never have enough of those, everything they needed for the crib, a couple of blankets that were specifically designed for burping.

Alexander, not complaining about it in the slightest, was manned with pushing the trolley while they shuffled through the shelves, Thomas leading the way with the piece of paper in hand. They chose the crib first. Triple checked they had the right design and colour. Fit it underneath the basket of the trolley. Ticked off the changing table and the cabinet. They paused before the registers to double check everything.

“Why does the baby have more stuff than we do?” Alexander muttered, staring at the trolley full of products. There were still other things they needed that they couldn’t get from here.

Thomas was too busy scrutinizing the list.

“Bear with me for a sec,” he muttered. “I need to pick up one more thing.”

“What, and wait here? What is it?” Alexander asked. Thomas turned away and started back off the way they came.

“Well, all right. I’ll just wait here,” Alexander mumbled. Shifted the trolley so that it was a little more out of the way.

Thomas didn’t take long anyway. Alexander picked up a few of the things and started inspecting them. He wasn’t paying attention when something big and white landed in the trolley just by his head. Alexander glanced up at it.

“Thomas, for god’s sake, seriously?” He sighed, deadpan. His mouth pulled up and he shot a sour look in Thomas’s direction. “We don’t need this.”

Thomas looked like he didn’t care. “Alexander, you’re not bathing the baby in the bloody sink, okay? Do you know how dumb that is?” He took the trolley from Alexander and started pushing it towards the registers.

“No, it’s not. It’s fine. People do it all the time. It’s better than wasting money on this giant plastic thing,” Alexander grumbled, motioning to the baby bath.

Thomas’s tone was light and uncaring. “It’s ten dollars. Relax.”  

Alexander pulled a face and shut his mouth. His feet were starting to hurt. He just wanted to sit down and relax somewhere.

When it came around to paying for everything, Alexander scrutinized the woman behind the register as she told them their total. Pulled a face as Thomas pulled out the card linked to their joint account and put it into the machine. No surprises there, but it still hurt to know how much everything cost.

“Do you have any tools for this stuff?” Alexander asked as Thomas adjusted the flatpacks a little and pushed the trolley along slowly.

Thomas hummed. “Yeah, pretty sure,” he answered, distracted. “Do you have any other plans for today?”

They made there wait over to the elevator. Close enough to the doors that Alexander could feel the cold breeze of March across his clammy cheeks. “Nope,” he muttered. He thought about maybe texting John and Hercules, though.

“I kind of wanted to do this,” he admitted. “Like, build a few things. Even just the crib, or something. I know we’ve got plenty of time…”

Thomas chuckled. “Okay, let’s do it then,” he said. Alexander glanced over at him. “I want to do it as well.”

Alexander smiled. Maybe it would dissapate soon, but he was excited about this. To make the nursery look a little more inhabitable than it was. They had furniture now. Decorations that made it look like a baby’s room. They both wanted to see it come to life.

When they finally found an elevator they could fit in, they took it down to the garage and through the car park. Alexander took the keys from Thomas and opened the boot door. He squeezed around the side and opened up the backseat so that he could put them down.

Thomas packed in the cabinet first. Picked it up from the trolley and slid it in nicely over the seats with plenty of space for everything else. Did the same for the crib and the changing table. Alexander picked up the blue Ikea bags they’d bought and shoved it in next to the flatpacks. Slid the baby bath with the toys inside in the car last.

“Jump in, I’ll be a sec,” Thomas told him, closing the boot door. Alexander watched him take the trolley before he squeezed into the passenger seat and threw the keys down on the driver side. Once everything was settled and there were driving out of the garage, Alexander felt a little calmer. Everything was almost done.

* * *

 

 “Roxy?” Alexander asked, yawning. The restless night beforehand was really starting to get to him now. He was leaning his head against the window, trying not to fall asleep.

Thomas looked annoyed, staring ahead at the traffic in front of them. He’d vigorously admitted that New York City traffic was the only reason he didn’t drive everywhere.

Thomas hummed. Alexander glanced at him.

“She’s coming here?”

“Yeah. She said she wants to book a flight soon so that she could come visit before the due date.” The car came to a standstill, and Thomas looked at him. “She just wanted to make sure that was okay.”

Roxy wanted to come visit, was what Thomas was saying. Come visit Alexander? Or just Thomas?

“Why wouldn’t it be?” He asked. Thomas shrugged one shoulder.

“I don’t know, she just wanted me to ask you.” He paused to pull a face. “She’s European, you know?”

Alexander frowned. What?

“I don’t think so,” he answered. Thomas chuckled.

“You’ll understand when you meet her.”

Alexander stared out the passenger window. The clouds were drifting now, the sun shining through the breaks.

“I didn’t know she lived in Belgium,” he admitted. Not that he’d thought about it a whole lot. “I thought she lived with your mum.” Thomas, like Alexander, didn’t have a whole lot of family. Only the ones that came later.

“She’d like to, but mum lives in a nursing home and she’s really stubborn about people worrying about her.

Alexander watched the traffic move slowly. They were coming up past Upper East Side.

“You said she has a son?” There were little things here and there that Alexander was able to pierce together whenever Thomas spoke of his relatives. He had an odd desire to know these things.

Thomas hummed around a smile. “His names Elie. He’s three.”

Alexander sat up and turned in his seat a little. “She knows, right? About the baby?” Was that established?

“Yeah,” Thomas chuckled. “Sort of…”

Alexander frowned. “Sort of?” He inquired. The secretive little smile was a fixture on his face now.

“I guess… “ he paused to chuckled again. “I don’t think she’ll really believe it until she sees it.”

Sometimes, in between the kitchen and his bedroom, Alexander would catch Thomas speaking fast French into his phone. Knew that it was his sister. Sometimes he’d linger just to eavesdrop. Listen to Thomas banter and chuckle at words that he couldn’t hear. Their conversations always seem to border on playful.

Thomas side-eyed him as he drove. “What did Ang’s parents say when you told them? You seemed pretty stressed about it.”

Alexander scoffed and pulled at his seatbelt. “Understatement,” he muttered. Stressed was not the word. Especially the day that Angelica drove him three hours up north just to do it. “I thought they were going to kill me.”

“Was it bad?” Thomas asked, a little more delicately.

“Not as much as I thought it would be,” he said. He didn’t want to elaborate. “They liked the picture I gave them.” They’d sat and listened to him cry and stress and apologize, and then Catherine had made tea and left it there for a while. He didn’t mention that they wanted to at least meet Thomas, considering they were doing all of this together.

Thomas chuckled. “I told you, you should’ve just sent it in the mail,” he joked.

* * *

 

 It took them a surprisingly short time to find parking close to the building. In the lapse of conversation and the hum of the radio, Alexander dozed against the window. Only jolted awake when he felt a hand on his wrist.

“Hey, we’re here,” Thomas told him. Alexander sat up properly and rubbed a hand across his face.

“We’ll have to make a few laps to the car. Can you grab the bags?” Thomas asked as he opened his door and jumped out. Alexander flicked his hair out of the way and undid his seatbelt. Opened his own door and followed Thomas to the back of the car. It was a slim space between there’s and the car behind them.

I’m going to take these two first,” Thomas said, messing with the flatpacks. “Can you take one of the bags and lock the car?”

Alexander waited for Thomas to move out of the way before he grabbed the two Ikea bags. It strained his back a little, but they weren’t all that heavy. Thomas stood on the footpath and tried to jostle the two flatpacks into a position that was easy to carry. Alexander got his keys out. Became the one in charge of opening all the doors. When they got upstairs, they put everything straight into the baby’s room. It only took the two trips before they had everything.

“I think I need a nap,” Alexander muttered as he held the kettle under the running water. Needed to do something active if he was going to try and stay awake. It was probably wise; the more tired he was, the bigger the chance he’d sleep better through the night. He probably didn’t want to ruin that.

 “Go take one, then. I’ll wait,” Thomas said, disappearing into his room only to emerge with a different, thicker sweater.

“For what? Do you want one of these?” He asked, waving around the cylindrical tin of jasmine tea.

“Please,” Thomas replied. Reached around the wall of the kitchen to adjust the thermostat. “To start on the furniture. You don’t want to miss out, it’s going to be riveting.”

Alexander chuckled. Opened the fridge and pulled out a cheese slice from the container in the bottom drawer. Chewed on it slowly. “I don’t want to miss a second,” he muttered. Thomas brushed past him to disappear into the nursery.

Alexander made the tea slowly, body lethargic. Filled both strainers with leaves and put them in the mugs. Poured the hot water over the top. He could hear Thomas messing with something. Wandered over to stand in the doorway.

“Maybe if I hold out on a nap I’ll sleep better tonight,” he muttered. Folded his arms and watched Thomas rifle through one of the bags.

“You’ve not been sleeping well for a while,” he stated. Looked up from the bag and gave Alexander a look.

Alexander shrugged. “Sometimes it’s okay.”

The crib was leaning up against the left side of the room, on the same wall as Alexander’s. The window sat on the adjacent wall. Alexander surveyed the room a little. Tried to picture what it all might look like set up. He got the feeling there was a lot more room that he’d thought there was originally. They already had a little rocking chair coming that they could stick by the window, in the corner. Put the cabinet between that, and the crib. There was plenty of space to move things around and mess with it all.

“Let’s do it now,” he remarked. Thomas was surveying the sheets and duvets and putting them into a pile.

“Yeah?” Thomas asked. “We have plenty of time.”

Alexander smiled. “No, I want to do it now,” he muttered, excited. He wanted to do the big stuff so that he could get around to decorating

Thomas picked the textile stuff up and slid open the closet. Deposited it on a random shelf and closed it behind him. Grabbed the crib first and put it flat on the ground. He got up and wandered past Alexander, who followed him until Thomas disappeared down the hall.

Alexander let the tea steep a little more, steering the strainer through the water a bit. The aroma was rich and nice and made him hum when the steam hit his face. Thomas came back down the hall with a little plastic container. Alexander took the strainers out and threw them in the sink to be dealt with later. Picked up the mug that Martha had gifted and slid it over to the counter to Thomas. He had the container open, messing with the contents. Alexander could see that there were a few tools in there.

“I’ll do one and you do one?” He asked. Held his mug to his lip delicately so that he could breathe in the steam. Thomas hummed. Picked up the plastic container and his mug and wandered back to the nursery. Alexander followed slowly.

“I’m remembering how much I suck at this,” Thomas mumbled. Sat crossed-legged on the ground and used one of the screwdrivers to get under a flap on cardboard and rip it up.

“Building furniture?” Alexander asked, chuckling. He didn’t want to brag, but not only was it his favourite thing, he was also pretty much a champion at it. “You just follow the instructions.”

“And I still manage to fuck it up. It’s a life skill,” Thomas remarked. The sun was shining in through the window now. Mid-afternoon sunlight that coupled well with the heat from the radiators. Alexander set his mug down on the windowsill and pulled at the flatpack with the changing table. It was very small and light and certainly wasn’t going to be a challenge. Stood with it while he watched Thomas pull out the tools and some of the slats for the crib.

“You want to help me with this if you’re so good?” Thomas asked, voice neutral. He looked like he was concentrating more on the little paper booklet than anything else. It wasn’t very big. Alexander smiled and sat the changing table back against the wall. It took a little effort to comfortable get himself situated on the ground like Thomas was. Used the wall to steady himself. Once he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, back against the wall, he took the instructions from Thomas, who was tipping the nuts and bolts and other pieces into the lid of his little tool box. The first part was attaching each slat to the bottom rungs of the crib. He was in the midst of reaching for some of the little wooden stakes to fit into the holes when he felt something like a bubble pop on the inside of his stomach.

“Oh,” he muttered. Dropped the instructions and held a hand to his stomach. Thomas stopped pulling pieces of wood out of the box to look at him.

“Okay?” He asked. Alexander grabbed his hand again. Pulled it to his stomach and held it there.

“There’s no way you can’t feel that. It’s so big,” he said, his heart racing a little. _Please do it again_ , he thought eagerly. He remembered a time when Angelica was somewhere in her third trimester. The way she’d pressed a hand to her stomach, only for the baby to kick so hard that her skin rose on the outside. Like a small bump attached to her actual stomach. It had freaked him out at first.

Thomas remained quiet. Held still, waiting. There was another kick, another bubble popping, but it was smaller this time.

“Anything?” Alexander asked. Thomas shook his head. Held both hands to Alexander’s stomach and pressed a little harder.

“She’s going to start keeping you up, now,” he muttered, a smile on his face. Pulled his hands back.

Alexander sighed. “She already does,” he mumbled back. Maybe he didn’t mind so much, although he’d probably come to change his mind pretty quickly.

Thomas hummed. He reached for the instructions again, the moment breaking. Started pulling out everything they needed.

Alexander dropped his hands, the baby still. Started by inserting some of the wooden stakes into the slats, attached everything together, Thomas working on the other side of the crib. They all fit very snug together. He got stuck into it, barely looking at the instructions. It was easy to work out where everything went. He had to shift a few times, working with Thomas to put things together. He was struck by how surreal it was to be doing it. Once the slats were all in place, and the sides of the crib were done, Alexander used the windowsill to help himself get up while Thomas leaned the front of the crib against the wall and tried to figure out how to attach it. There were a few screw-in bolts in the bag, the booklet clear on where to put them.

Alexander handed Thomas one of the screwdrivers while he was bent down slightly. Stood back to let him work, one hand steading everything. There was a patch of sunlight on the hardwood floor that breached through the sheer part of the curtains. Alexander eyed it, but otherwise didn’t move.

When they finally completed the crib, Thomas ran his hands over everything. Shook it a little to make sure nothing was loose. Alexander stood back with his hands around his almost empty mug and watched. He was smiling; the crib was done.

“Okay,” Thomas muttered to himself, his brows pulled down endearingly. “Jesus, that was exhausting.”

Alexander scoffed. “Calm down,” he muttered.

“I hate building furniture,” Thomas sighed. Slumped against the opposing wall. Shot Alexander a weird look. Alexander finished the rest of his tea.

“I bet you didn’t think you’d be doing this at twenty-six,” Thomas remarked. Alexander watched him stretch his arms back.

He breathed out slowly. “There’s a lot of things I didn’t think I’d be doing at twenty-six,” he replied. Thomas shot him an amused look that Alexander didn’t question.

“Like what?” He asked. Turned to pull at the crib until he had it against the wall. Alexander clicked his teeth against his mug.

“I don’t know. I didn’t think I’d be a social worker,” he admitted. At some point, he hadn’t known what it was that he wanted to do. He’d had to spend a good lot of time thinking about it before he applied to any colleges.

Thomas had his back turned and grabbed the flatpack with the cabinet inside. This one was going to be a little less difficult. The pieces were bigger and there weren’t so many of them.

“Then why did you?” Thomas asked conversationally. Alexander felt like his brain was too fried to hold up a conversation about himself. He sighed.

“I wanted to help people. Kids and families and stuff,” he breathed. Leaned heavily against the wall. He’d wanted to make life easy for people, just as people had done for him. It wasn’t easy work.

Thomas hummed, tearing open the cardboard. He laid it on the ground and opened it up. Alexander remembered something as he watched Thomas spill out the little tools.

“Martha said you wanted to play in an orchestra,” he stated, but it was more of a question. Martha said a lot of random things about Thomas.

Thomas chuckled. Started pulling out the huge sides of the cabinet and placing them against the wall. He didn’t say anything for a good few seconds, his back turned while he sorted through the box.

“I did. I wanted to play the violin,” he answered, his voice sombre. Alexander wondered if that was a delicate subject for him. He had a desire to know more about Thomas. Felt like he barely knew anything.

“So why didn’t you? Studying law is a bit far from studying music.” He shuffled over, put his mug back on the windowsill and used the wall to help himself back down. Sat a few centimetres from Thomas and watched him flick through the booklet. His brows were pulled down. He looked up and gave Alexander a solemn look.

“My father died. I decided that I wanted to pick something that required a little less travel,” he answered honestly, his tone light. He put the instructions down and leaned back on his hand. Gazed at Alexander.

“All right, my turn,” he said, smiling. Alexander stretched his legs out in front of him. “Why did you go live with the Schuyler’s?”

Alexander wondered how much Thomas actually knew about him.

“I was in foster care. They looked after me,” he admitted. They were both just sitting there, unmoving.

Thomas frowned a little. “Your parents…?” he trailed off. Alexander could finish the question himself.

He brought a hand up to rub his brow. Sitting down and doing nothing was making him sleepy. He wondered, briefly, how much he wanted to share with Thomas. Alexander felt like he already knew so much about Thomas’s life.

“My father left when I was younger, before I came to New York, and my mum died after,” he admitted quickly, his hands fidgeting. He wasn’t very confident when it came to speaking about his mother.

Thomas nodded. Broke eye contact to stare down at the booklet in his hand. He turned the page, distracted. Alexander’s gaze fell to Thomas’s hands, curled around the pages. He bit his lip. He wanted to ask Thomas another question. He wanted to know more.

“What was it like?” Thomas asked, spilling out some of the contents of the bag into the toolbox like he’d done before. “Living with the Schuyler’s for the first time? Eliza said that you’re pretty much their brother.”

A smiled jumped on Alexander's face, fond. He was. He very much considered them his sisters. He wasn’t about to call Catherine and Philip his mum and dad, but it was very nearly close.

“It wasn’t really nice for a long time, actually,” he chuckled. Leaned back heavily against the wall and thought about it. “I hated Angelica.”

Thomas looked at him. “Really?” He asked. Alexander breathed out a laugh at his disbelieving tone.

“So much. We were very different.” He paused to really think about it. Remembered the first time he decided that he hated her, then. The first week in, when she’d told him he needed to stop moping around and being so anti-social.

“I was a bit of a mess as a teenager, and I don’t think she liked that at all. They were all very put together, but Ang was always on another level.”

Thomas chuckled, smiling. “She still is,” he muttered. Alexander smiled, lost in his head a little.

“She planned this thing for my eighteenth birthday. I think it’s when we really started to like each other. There was this big poetry slam thing happening here, so she bought us both tickets and we spent the night. I didn’t think she even knew that I liked listening to poetry.” It had been January, cold. A Friday night. They went straight after school. Angelica really had to convince him. He hadn’t wanted to spend such a big trip with Angelica. Especially when he had no idea what they were doing.

Thomas chuckled. Threw the booklet down, a smile on his face. “You like poetry,” he stated, a tone of surprise. Alexander caught his gaze, his fingers fidgeting.

“Yeah, a little,” he muttered, flushing. He could feel his cheeks colouring. A lot, actually, but it wasn’t something he talked to others about. He just liked listening to other people’s thoughts. He liked the way it seemed to bare their soul momentarily.

Thomas’s smile widened. Alexander’s gaze flickered to the opposing wall, a little embarrassed.

“Do you write any?” He asked, a teasing note in his voice. Alexander bit his lip and didn’t meet his gaze. Thomas didn’t give him much room to answer. “You do, don’t you?” He asked, chuckling. “Can I read some?”

Alexander laughed, surprised, his cheeks hot. He would die before he let anyone read anything he wrote.

“Hell no,” he muttered vigorously. Thomas looked like he found this fact about Alexander far too amusing.

“Why not? I’m sure it’s good.”

Alexander stabbed a foot into Thomas’s thigh. “I already know it’s good,” he remarked. Brought his legs up and crossed them. Thomas was terrible at faking disappointment.

“See, now I feel like your hiding something, because any time you say your good at something, you don’t hesitate to rub it in people’s faces.”

Maybe if Alexander didn’t know Thomas so well, he might’ve been offended. Instead, he shrugged and shot Thomas a brief, cheery smile.

“Thank you. That’s really funny coming from you,” he retorted. He supposed that it was a testament to how far they’d come, that Thomas didn’t jump into pointing out all of Alexander’s flaws. They were just sitting there talking. Alexander wondered if he should feel unsettled by how easy it was. So long ago, it had only ever been like this when they were drunk and in bed.

Thomas didn’t say anything. He leaned back on his hands and just looked at Alexander. It was quiet. Alexander opened his mouth, to break the silence, but quickly shut it again. His face pulled up into a slight grimace, his hand coming to his stomach and rubbing. It felt like he had a cramp. Like his muscles were squeezing and tightening.

“She’s kicking again?” Thomas asked. Alexander shook his head.

“It’s a contraction,” he muttered. Thomas leaned forward again and threw him a concerned look.

“Does it hurt?” He brought a hand out, slowly. Alexander didn’t stop him from laying it on his stomach.

“No, it’s just uncomfortable” Alexander replied. Shuffled a little to the side and guided Thomas’s hand down, sort of on the underside of the bump, where his jeans started to dig in. “You can kind of feel it. It feels very hard.”

Thomas ran his fingers along Alexander’s hoodie there. It never lasted long and usually, if Alexander moved, it kind of went away, or started too. It was easy to manage, but sometimes they happened at the most annoying times.

“How many times a day do you get them?” Thomas asked. They were sitting close now, and Alexander didn’t see Thomas move his other hand until it was pressed against the small of his back, hard, very evident. It was very comfortable. It sort of pressed into the knots there.

“Ah, not many. Two or three. They go away pretty quickly.” Still so long to go, and yet his body was starting to prepare him for the real thing. It was a weird thought.

Thomas stayed quiet, still rubbing side to side across his bump. He splayed his hand out on Alexander’s back, digging his fingers in a little, rubbing. Alexander wanted, briefly, for Thomas to coax him into turning around. For Thomas to put both hands on his back and run them up and down the length of it. Dig out the knots and the tension. There was an unnamed, suppressed desire in him that called for affection. For those clumsy, intimate moments before or straight after sleep when Alexander would bury his face in Thomas’s neck and just breathe. Where Thomas would run his fingertips down Alexander’s back slowly. Where everything was quiet and peaceful and _good._ Except, Alexander didn’t know how to ask for affection, the way he knew how to ask for everything else he wanted.

“Can I ask…?” Alexander started, tone gentle. Thomas looked at him. Shuffled a little closer. So close that his crossed knees hit Alexander’s thigh, his hand insistent on his back. They were talking, getting to know each other, sitting so close that it was warm. Alexander didn’t want the moment to break just yet. There were a lot of things he wanted Thomas to tell him. “I – you went over it briefly. I didn’t want to say anything unless it was a delicate thing.”

Thomas remained silent, which was obviously a queue. Alexander directed his gaze to the wall, his face flushing a little. Instead of just holding them awkwardly in his lap, Alexander brought a hand up and very obviously placed it over Thomas’s. Tried to gauge whether that was something he could get away with. “You’ve never spoken about Mary. I know what Roxy looks like, but not Mary.” He didn’t want to invade privacy or make Thomas uncomfortable. He’d drop it immediately if it came down to that.

Alexander kept his gaze somewhere over by the closet. Pressed his fingers gently, slowly, in between the divots of Thomas’s own, waited. He really wanted this, he thought. He really wanted Thomas to hold his hand. It was stupid. It was really, really stupid, but it wasn’t like he hadn’t been thinking about it lately. It wasn’t like Alexander never considered possibilities and briefs amounts of time thinking about the casual and somewhat intimate way Thomas touched him.

Thomas sighed. Hard enough that Alexander felt the pressure if it in his hair. He paused, his hand moving out from under Alexander’s, and Alexander only gave himself a second to be disappointed before Thomas laid it over the top, sort of more on his thigh, rather than his stomach. Brought his hand back and linked their fingers together, casual.

“That’s, like, a whole story,” he muttered, his tone neutral. Alexander turned his head to catch Thomas’s gaze. Caught the relaxed posture and easy expression.

“I’ve got time,” he muttered. Brought his other hand up and placed it over the top of both of theirs. There was no pretence now. They were holding hands. “I want to know about her, but only if you want to say.”

Thomas dropped his gaze to somewhere by Alexander shoulder and smiled. Gave his hand a squeeze, his thumb flicking against Alexander’s own.

“Okay,” he started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated the chapter count! I wonder if there will ever be a chapter I don't hate?
> 
> 6 DIGITS


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, nothing happens in this chapter. Sorry.

They took the train together once Angelica dropped her car off. She’d declined to take it for the simple reason that she didn’t want to spend ages looking for parking, even after Alexander reminded her that she wasn’t even technically invited to where they were going. Both of them jumping on the train towards Hell’s Kitchen, Alexander still feeling out of breath and slightly tired. He hadn’t anticipated the workout he’d be getting on a cold March day after work.

It was another Thursday. Another hellish work day, only, slightly less strenuous considering how much his boss insisted he take it easy. It was coming up to eight-thirty, and Alexander had plans to catch up with John and Hercules as soon as none of them were super busy. They’d settled on nine o’clock and when Angelica had asked him to bring a change of clothes and meet her at home after work, Alexander hadn’t been anticipating the full-on yoga sessions that came with it. He wasn’t going to admit that it was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, but it sure did find it’s way up there.

“Your legs hurt?” She asked, a little smirk on her face. Alexander flipped her off from the other side of the train car. Stretched his legs out as far as he could, trying to stretch out the muscles. He’d never done yoga in his life, and whether or not it had been for people as pregnant as he was, Alexander wasn’t over how difficult it had been. His legs ached, he couldn’t remember a single name of any of the poses they’d done, and he felt like he spent most of it wondering how stupid he looked.

“I can’t believe you did that to me,” he muttered, sulking. It was a joke, mostly. He hadn’t cared, either way. The upside had been meeting a few people that were expecting as well. Alexander wasn’t going to admit it, but chatting amiably with people he didn’t know, yet could relate to, had been extremely nice.

“You should come again,” she remarked all smiley. Hunched down in her leggings and boots, her fluffy, red down jacket, the hood up. Tapped her shoes together in front of her. “It gets better once you find your rhythm, and you’ll actually feel like you’re doing something instead of being lazy.”

If there was anyone’s advice that he was going to take, it was Angelica’s. He’d mentioned, briefly, his disdain at how lazy he was getting. How many few things there was that he could do at the gym now, his lack of motivation to stand on a treadmill. It was getting boring, but he was also starting to feel guilty at the lack of activity. 

Alexander hummed. “Maybe. I like your friends,” he replied, distracted. He’d really enjoyed talking to a few of them. Angelica’s personal assistant, Artley, a very tall Korean woman with an undercut, was in her twenty-ninth week, as opposed to Alexander’s twenty-fifth. It had been nice to talk to someone that was on the same track. Especially when she was so lovely and easy to talk to.

“It’s too far away for me to do every week, Ang,” he admitted. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to travel to Brooklyn every Thursday just for an hour yoga session, no matter the company.

The both jolted as the train started moving away from another platform. Angelica stuffed her hands into her pockets. “I know, but it might be nice to get into it, especially for after, when you’ve got a bit of time off. Find one around where you live.”

Alexander was weeks away from his third trimester. It was time to start thinking about after, he supposed. Before he had to start thinking about everything else. He was starting to learn that if he didn’t book classes for certain things months before they were to start, it wasn’t very likely that he’d get a place.

“You have holidays soon,” Alexander remarked, shifting the conversation. They both bobbed with the movement of the train.

Angelica hummed. “The thirtieth. We’ve shifted things a bit, so we’re only going to be gone for a week.” She took her hands out of her pockets and started playing with the zipper at the bottom of her jacket.

“I spoke to mum this morning,” she started. Alexander leaned his head on his hand and gazed at her. “I don’t know what she’s been saying to you, but I think she’d like a visit sometime soon.”

Alexander tried to stifle a yawn into his hand. “Yeah, I know. I’ve got time, but I think she’s trying to hint that she wants me to bring Thomas,” he chuckled awkwardly. It was a thing she kept bringing up, but always so subtly.

Angelica chuckled as well. “She just wants to meet him, you know. All this talk and she still doesn’t know who he really is. Have you asked Thomas?”

Right. Catherine would’ve heard of Thomas before all of this. Angelica and Eliza knew Thomas way before Alexander had ever met him.

“No, Angelica, I’m not going to ask him,” he chuckled, even though he knew she was being serious. And that he was probably going to bring it up.

She shot him a quick frown. “Why? Don’t make it sound absurd,” she scoffed lightly. Alexander snickered.

“I’m not going to ask Thomas to come meet my parents,” he scoffed back. He wasn’t quite sure how much Catherine and Philip wanted to be a part of his life like that.

Angelica paused and gave him a sour look. He had to smile at it, only because it was kind of cute. She brought her legs up instead of stretching them out like Alexander’s and started bumping her knees together. “You don’t have to make it out like he’s your boyfriend, Alexander. No one’s going to take it that way. Thomas won’t say no.”

Alexander gazed down at the floor and shrugged. “Yes, he will. He’s not going to want to drive all the way to Albany just so he can get judged by Catherine.”

Angelica obviously didn’t like that, but she also didn’t reply straight away. Turned her head away, eyes somewhere else, and did that thing where she raised her eyebrows, silently judging. There wasn’t any heat in it though.

The conversation came to an end once they were off the train. Came out of the subway in comfortable silence, the street loud and bright around them.

“All right, how about this,” she started, falling in-step so that she could wrap an arm around Alexander’s elbow. Alexander glanced sidelong at her. “You’ve stopped taking your suppressants.”

Alexander frowned, surprised. “You can tell?” He asked. She was an omega, so she was going to notice fairly quickly.

“You have a very volatile scent, so, yeah. Why? When’d you stop?”

“Tuesday,” he answered. It wasn’t common for an omega to not be on scent blockers. Alexander’s had always been mixed with his suppressants, so if he stopped taking one, he stopped taking both. His decision had come down to laziness and a failure to see why it was important to take them anymore. He wasn’t going to fall into heat, he wasn’t going to be alluring to anyone, it wasn’t going to get him into any trouble. No one was going to care about his scent being a little more noticeable now that he was pregnant.

Or, so he assumed.

Angelica hummed, a little uncaring, perhaps. She didn’t seem to think that it was a big deal, which was always good. “Just be careful, will you,” she muttered, distracted. Alexander didn’t make anything of her hesitation until much later.

* * *

 

 Hercules was grumbling to himself when he buzzed them up and opened the door. He had a beanie on, an empty backpack in one hand. Threw out a “come in” before he left them there and disappeared into his room. Angelica closed the door behind them.

John was standing in the kitchen, wooden spatula in one hand, his phone in the other. He poked his head around the corner to shoot them a hello.

“Who said you could come?” He called out playfully to Angelica, who sat on the couch to start undoing her boots.

“Alexander did. He’s sick of you giving him shit,” she replied. Ignored Alexander’s light kick to her ankle.

John disappeared back around the corner, but not before he gave her the finger.

“I smell tacos,” she remarked. Undid her jacket and threw it over the back of the couch. Alexander sat down next to her and started undoing his own shoes.

“You want some?” John called back out. “There’s enough.”

Alexander pulled a face, his stomach twisting. “No, there’s not,” he muttered, so that only Angelica could hear him. “I’m starving.”

Hercules looked a little disgruntled when he came back out sans his backpack. Huffed out a sigh and took a seat in the armchair. He looked both exhausted and annoyed, which only meant that he’d started packing for his next tour. San Francisco, if Alexander remembered correctly.

“All right, girl,” he called to Angelica. Poked a toe into her leg, ignored Alexander, as expected. Angelica shrugged non-committedly and muttered that she was fine.

Not that Alexander was going to say, but he was extremely glad that she’d decided to come, despite it being so far away. Both John and Hercules had fallen into this weird thing where they teased him constantly about his recent life choices, and Alexander felt like they were less inclined to do so if there was other company. It wasn’t so much Hercules, who looked at him with a little bit of a bitter expression and kept making comments about how fast Alexander’s life was changing, almost like it affected him more than it affected Alexander. Almost like he just couldn’t deal with it. John, though, was on another level. His promise to keep silence about Thomas didn’t last very long. Only until he found out that both Alexander and Thomas had made the decision to move in together. Then his comments just became a _whole_ different thing.

It was just banter, the way they teased him. Just jokes, but it was starting to become less funny, and more nerve grating. Especially with John’s ability to suck up to other people’s problems and pretend like they were his own as well, just so he could moan about them.

“Sorry I stole him for a little while,” Angelica was saying. Leaned down casually to lay her head on Hercules’s shoulder. “We did yoga.”

Alexander chuckled because he was expecting the bout of laughter that came from the kitchen once that sentence left Angelica’s mouth. John came back out of the kitchen to stare at Angelica, cackling.

“’We’? Are you serious?” He laughed, his wooden spoon still in hand. He waved it around wildly. “ _This_ motherfucker did _yoga_?” He stared over at Alexander.

Alexander chuckled. “I liked it, actually. It wasn’t too bad,” he replied. Maybe if it was something else, or at some other point in time, he’d be kind of embarrassed about it, but Alexander was starting to like falling into those things that expecting mothers did. If yoga or some other equally gentle workout was one of them, he didn’t really care. Sunday mornings were for swimming laps, now.

John, though, seemed to think it was hilarious. He scoffed and shot Alexander a mean look. “Dude, yoga’s for old people,” he called out.

Hercules made a noise from his spot on the couch. “Or for pregnant people, dude,” he muttered. John seemed happy to pretend he didn’t hear.

“Do I look old to you, John Laurens?” Angelica piped up, a fake scowl on her face. Alexander chuckled. John disappeared back into the kitchen so that he wouldn’t have to answer.

The living room was so small that there wasn’t really space for a dining table, so they ended up eating tacos on the coffee table instead. All of them squished onto the couch, while Hercules stayed stuck to his armchair, plates in laps. Alexander pushed aside his drink so that he could lay his feet up, hunched down on the couch. He chose to stay mostly quiet while they ate. There was a point where Angelica started talking and Alexander felt a bump, the baby moving. He almost startled with it, because it was so unexpected, and he still wasn’t used to it. Had a desire to reach for Angelica’s hand and put it on his stomach in case it was big enough to feel, even though he knew it probably wasn’t.

John took his plate when he was done, and Alexander muttered a gruff “thanks” and placed his arms over his stomach. Angelica moved after a while, yawning, so that she could sit on the rug. Alexander took advantage of the lack of people to stretch out sideways on the couch and lean his head on the arm. Moved until he found a comfortable position. John, to Alexander’s surprise, only gave him a little scowl, before he forced Alexander’s legs up to make room.  

Their conversation flowed easily, Alexander trying not to fall asleep. John made sure to pinch Alexander’s ankle whenever he was worried that he was drifting.

“So, when’s the next visit, then?” Angelica asked ambiguously. Alexander was curious as well.

“Yeah,” he muttered, moved to stare down at John. “I miss that asshole.”

John shrugged. “I don’t know, Laf’s busy. I want him to come and visit as soon as possible as well, okay?” He sighed and slumped back, his fingers twitched against Alexander’s ankle.

“Make sure he comes to visit in the summer, at least,” Alexander remarked. John grimaced.

“Dude, him and your boyfriend are best friends now. He ain’t going to miss the chance to be around when you pop your kid out.”

Angelica chuckled quietly. Alexander could’ve kicked John only, the boyfriend things was a simple recurrence at this point, and he was used to it.

“Speaking of which, Ham,” Hercules piped up from the armchair. “What rights do I get over this kid?”

Alexander leaned back to scowl at him. “The fuck does that mean?” He muttered while Angelica swapped her chuckled for a full-on laugh.

“I’m already aunty,” she bragged.

“Do I get anything?” John joined in. Alexander went to kick him, but John caught on pretty quickly and held Alexander’s ankles tight.

“No one gets anything, actually,” Alexander muttered, scowling. “Not even you, Schuyler. None of you have sucked up to me enough.”

Hercules chuckled. “All right, fine, I can suck up, but I’d like to point out that Jack’s been the biggest dick to you out of all of us.”

John spluttering was humorous enough to get a laugh out of Alexander. John opened his mouth to retort, but Hercules beat him to it.

“And also, that if you actually started dating Thomas, I’d still respect you as a person.” His voice was full of humour. Alexander rolled his eyes, docile and tired. He’d well and truly heard it all before.

John had a mean scowl on his face, directed at Hercules, who gave him a sunny smile.

Angelica was also smiling. “What the hell do you guys even talk about? Leave Thomas alone.” She looked delighted to be a part of the conversation.

“Nah man, I’m out on that one,” John started and held his hands up in surrender. “I can’t respect that. Alex can do better. That fucker’s way too uptight.”

It was a comment that actually made Alexander smile. It was said as a joke, obviously. He shared a look with Angelica, like a little secret. Alexander would never dispute that Thomas was uptight sometimes. John was biased anyway, considering how little they talked. It was a thing he’d talked about briefly with Angelica over the phone. John was carefree and breezy. It was easy for him to make jokes and seek out the fun in most things. Alexander was built differently. Where John drifted, Alexander desired stability, a solid place to stand and belong. Angelica had told him she could understand that, after all the chaos in his life.

Maybe Thomas was uptight, but, for whatever reason, he also shared the same values as Alexander. It’s what made him that much more appealing.

Angelica threw in the towel first, just as it was ticking past eleven. Alexander was sleepy, but he also felt great listening to their conversations drift. Angelica looked like she was about to bug out, and it was still a while before she’d get home. She donned all of her clothes and gave everyone hugs before she left. Gave Alexander an insistent stare and told him to text her about whether she’d make an appearance next week, much to John’s delight. Gave a little wave and shut the door behind her.

Alexander stayed planted on the couch, his feet in John’s lap. He thought about going home soon as well, although it wasn’t that much of a trek.

“When do you think I’m going to get a break?” John asked randomly. Hercules got up from the armchair and wandered into the kitchen.

“Mate, you’ve been asking that question since you finished college. I think we all know the answer by now.”

Alexander chuckled. “Never,” he muttered, which caused John to pinch the delicate skin over his ankle bone.

“You’re one to talk,” John muttered back, lax. “You’re life’s pretty much over now, asshole.”

Alexander snickered. John shot him an annoyed looked. “What have you got to worry about, Jack?” Alexander asked. John ignored him, though.

Hercules came back out of the kitchen with a mug of something. Settled back down and gave them both a smug little look.

“You’re one to talk, Jacky boy,” he parroted. Held his mug up as if to give a toast. “Both of your lives are over. Congratulations, you’ve both fallen into the pool of mediocrity.”

Alexander’s brain was to fried to answer that with more than a snicker. John shrugged.

“Dude, you have no idea. I have it better than both of you,” he bragged, his tone humorous.

Alexander stayed quiet, even though he completely disagreed. Instead, he sat up and shoved an elbow into John side. “Then stop asking for your big fucking break, you jackass,” he called and shot a smug look when John stilled his attempt at shoving Alexander in the side.

* * *

 

 Friday night turned out to also be a late one, although Alexander spent most of it alone.

He managed to get home just after six thirty, which was early enough to catch James in the living room while Thomas apparently changed so that they could go out. There wasn’t much of a conversation, considering James disposition to be shy and indifferent all at once, but Alexander got to show him the nursery and learn a little bit about his girlfriend. Learnt that they were going to meet Martha for dinner, and Alexander felt ridiculously delighted and, of all things, _accepted,_ when James invited him along. He politely declined, smiling, but not without a thank you.

Thomas came back out dressed a little more casually. Alexander leaned against the kitchen counter with his laptop and tried not to stare at Thomas’s fitted sweater. He also asked Alexander if he wanted to come, but it was clear that he got the hint when Alexander set his laptop on the coffee table and wrapped a throw blanket around himself, situated on the couch.

“I’m going to try and pick one tonight,” Alexander remarked in lieu of an answer, referring to a few of the prenatal classes they’d talked about and sorted through.

Thomas nodded and shrugged his coat on. James called out a friendly goodbye, and they left, but not before Thomas threw Alexander a fond little smile.

Alexander interpreted it that way, anyway.

He made himself a coffee after that. Just one. Set himself up with a bag of chips and flicked through a few websites, mostly Netflix. Let himself get distracted. Texted with Peggy a little bit. It was a little more difficult than he’d thought it would be to go through website after website and look at each schedule, each program. Most of them were similar in what the offered and taught, but Alexander was unsure about how much thought was required to go into them.

He knew what he was looking for the most. They hadn’t picked a hospital yet, but it turned it that that wasn’t a factor that really mattered. He knew that he wanted everything to be as natural as possible. That he wanted to find a program that spoke heavily on postpartum care and that was as small as possible, although it wasn’t going to be easy, now. If he wanted it to be small, it seemed like it was better to pick a birthing centre to have the classes in, rather than a hospital. The suggestion that Angelica had shot him was nice. A birthing centre with a six-week program that started around the week thirty-two mark. There were all these names that he had to remember and keep googling so that he knew what he was getting into.

He lost track of time. Even when he got up and pulled out the bowl of leftover soup in the fridge and heated it up in the microwave. Settled back down on the sofa and took his time dipping pieces of bread into it while he pulled up a show. When he finished, he pulled up the website for a birthing centre he got caught up on. Read the program over a few times. The introduction stated that it was a program designed for mothers and their birthing partners. Alexander placed his feet on the coffee table, the laptop sitting on his thighs, feeling at ease. There was a little tag next to the start dates, one that started on May first, that stated there was still available spots. Alexander clicked on to the link that lead him to sign up.

Keys in the door made him startle a little. There wasn’t much light in the room. Only the lamp that sat over the sofa that Alexander was sitting on.

He heard movement, the door closing, the closet door being opened. Alexander’s gazed flickered down to the time on his laptop screen and was surprised to see that it was past midnight.

“You’re still up,” Thomas observed when he shuffled down the hallway. He looked a little more dishevelled than when he’d left, his shirt sticking out under his sweater, a dark stain on his cheek that Alexander only caught with the light from the lamp.

“Hm,” Alexander replied, eyes flickering back to his laptop. His placed it on the arm of the sofa instead of his lap and scrolled down the page. “I think I’ve got one.”

“A class?” Thomas asked, words almost slurring. Pulled out a glass from the cupboard and filled it up with the filtered water from the fridge.

Alexander hummed, distracted. Started filling in his details for the sign-up. Thomas wandered over and took a seat on the sofa, only, instead of sitting down next to Alexander, he chose to flop down sideways, his head landing hard on Alexander’s thigh.

Alexander jostled a bit, frowning. Stared down at Thomas as he shifted to make himself comfortable, legs curled up, eyes glued to the screen.

“You right?” Alexander muttered. With Thomas’s head in his legs like that, it was awkward to reach over with his left arm to type on the keyboard. He debated pushing Thomas off.

Thomas didn’t seem fazed. Gave a lazy hum and patted a hand on Alexander’s knee. “Show me,” he muttered, his voice a little breathless. From this vantage point, Alexander could see that the stain that marked Thomas’s cheek, the line of his stubble, was a mauve lipstick.

“I’m not babysitting your drunk ass,” Alexander muttered, his fingers itching to wipe it away. Had nowhere else to put his hand, so he let it sit comfortably on Thomas’s side, just under his ribs. Thomas gave him a chuckle but did nothing to refute that he was actually drunk.

“Show me,” he insisted. Alexander clicked the back link and started back up at the top. He let it sit there because he couldn’t tell when Thomas finished reading.

“I thought you’d want to go for the other one, honestly,” Thomas’s remarked. He sat up from Alexander’s leg. Picked the laptop up as he went and situated himself so that he had a leg up on the sofa, facing Alexander.

“They’re all pretty much the same,” Alexander replied. Couldn’t hold back the yawn that he hid behind his hand. Thomas gaze flickered over the screen.

“You’re sure about doing this without any painkillers?” Thomas asked. Scratched at a spot on his cheek. His nails made a satisfying sound as they ran through his stubble. Alexander frowned at the stain.

“Ah, yeah,” he muttered, grimacing. “I feel like it’s probably better.”

Alexander knew there’d be a point where it would all get to him. Where he’d start feeling anxious and worried a lot more than he was now. Sometimes, he couldn’t stop thinking about Angelica. About her ordeal, and how every worse fear that she’d articulated to Alexander and the rest of their family actually came true. He felt like he was just waiting for the moment when it would hit him. That, despite the number of times his doctor had told him that he was healthy and fine, he was still going to worry that he wasn’t doing enough to make sure everything went smoothly.

So, yes, he was sure that he wanted to do it without the painkillers. That he wanted to do it without any help unless it was necessary because he was sure that it was all he could do.

Thomas nodded slowly, his eyes hooded. His posture was relaxed, slumped against the sofa. The front of his hair was a little frizzier then the rest, the curls disturbed, like he’d kept running his fingers through it the whole night. It was a habit, Alexander had noticed. Caught Thomas constantly making aborted movements to do it, only for his hand to come back down.

“Martha messaged me around ten and said that you were drinking all of the wine,” Alexander said in the same breath as he pulled his sleeve over his hand and reached up to Thomas’s face. Frowned in weak concentration as he wiped the lipstick stain away. Kept his gaze to what he was doing until he could see that there was nothing but a shadow of it.

“She’s not wrong,” Thomas replied awkwardly with Alexander’s hand on his cheek. When Alexander settled back against the sofa and looked at him, Thomas looked undisturbed. “She ordered a cheese platter before we left, so,” he said by way of explanation.

Alexander chuckled. “So, you took the wine,” he pieced together. Thomas took his time placing the laptop on the coffee table and slumped back down. He was smiling sleepily. It was cosy, the way they were huddled so close to each other.

“I had a salad for dinner,” he grumbled. Paused to rub a hand over his face. “And chips,” he tagged on. Alexander chuckled.

“So, why’d you let Martha pick the place then?” He was only assuming, but James wasn’t as dry and cruel in his humour as Martha was.

Thomas yawned and shifted. Mimicked Alexander by the way he slumped back against the cushions and placed his feet on the table, their legs comfortably pressed against each other.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, an easy look on his face. He put a hand behind his head.

Thomas sighed softly in the few seconds of silence. “Roxy’s booked her flight,” he remarked, glancing at Alexander.

“When?” Alexander was starting to feel a little sleepier now that he wasn’t really doing anything. He picked at the blanket that he had draped over his legs.

“May third,” Thomas muttered. Paused to cover a yawn of his own. “She’ll get here then, anyway. I think she’s going to visit mum before she comes.”

Alexander hummed. Seven weeks, then. He was hit with a little bit of excitement at the thought. Roxy sounded like the kind of person that he’d like to meet, judging by the conversation he caught her and Thomas having. She sounded funny, at least.

“Your mum? Is she coming at some point?” Alexander knew that she wanted to meet him. Thomas had said so many times, and Alexander was pretty indifferent to the thought. He could understand the sentiment anyway.

Thomas sighed and closed his eyes. He looked so relaxed like that, lounging back against the sofa. The lamp casted shadows across his face, lit up the base of his throat, an edge of collarbone where Thomas had undone a few buttons above the cut of his sweater. Alexander turned his head a little more to glance over at the line of skin. Pictured in his head the inked flowers that touched the edge of his clavicle. The place he’d touched his lips to so many times.

“Yeah, she will too,” Thomas muttered, voice quiet, sounding like he was a few seconds from falling asleep. Alexander shifted his eyes down to Thomas’s hands curled slightly on his lap, his mind elsewhere. Something deep curled in his chest. Slow, quiet, unassuming, a piece of ember latching onto a dried-out twig. It came as no surprise to Alexander, the way it was so easy to look at Thomas so covertly and admire. “I’ve just got to figure out how. She has a nurse that’s willing to travel.”

Alexander clenched his hands into his blanket. “Catherine and Philip want to do the same, I suppose,” Alexander muttered. He couldn’t remember how many times he’d seen Thomas look so relaxed. The way he always stretched out after sex, on his back, an arm thrown over his head, his eyes closed. His quiet, peaceful, little sighs. A half-dozen times at least. He had a thought. A tiny one that told him how easy it would be to lean over and put his lips over Thomas’s scent gland. Let them both rest there like that, quiet and at ease. Let Thomas nose against his neck. Alexander wondered, briefly, if Thomas could even tell that he wasn’t taking scent blockers anymore. Whether he could catch the scent of Alexander’s desire to be close.

“To come down?” Thomas asked, still.

“Hm,” Alexander muttered quietly. “Or for me to come up.” He narrowed his eyes as he stared off into the blurry distance of the living room. “Maybe closer to the date. I wanted,” he paused. Picked at the blanket. “They said it was probably about time they met you, as well.”

Thomas inclined his head towards Alexander. Alexander turned to look at him and caught the way he blinked his eyes open slowly. “I bet,” he chuckled. Laid a loose fist over his mouth and yawned again. Alexander’s gaze found his closed laptop.

“I’ll send an email tomorrow about the class,” he muttered. Rubbed a hand over his stomach.

Thomas murmured a quiet “okay”. Ran a hand through his hair and shifted forward, taking his feet back off the coffee table. He sat up and Alexander watched him stretch his back out.

“I’m going to bed,” he muttered, his tone almost slurred again. “Are we still doing tomorrow?”

Tomorrow. They were meeting Angelica for a late lunch. Alexander sat forward as well, lethargic.

“Drink some water before you go to bed,” he replied instead. Pushed the blanket off his legs so that he could collect his mug and bowl.

Thomas chuckled and shuffled into the kitchen. Picked up his glass and filled it up again. Alexander washed his dishes in the sink and stuck them on the drying rack. Ignored Thomas leaning against the counter while he gathered his things.

“I’m not being late tomorrow,” Thomas remarked. “If you’re not ready, I’m leaving without out.” There was no heat in it.

Alexander wandered through the kitchen to head back into his own room. Paused to grab a glass of his own and fill it up. Very obviously stepped back onto Thomas’s foot as he moved back from the fridge.

Thomas shifted back with a “hey, fuck off” that made Alexander chuckle. Thomas put his glass in the sink. Alexander picked his blanket and his laptop back up.

“’Night,” Thomas called. Left Alexander with a sleepy smile as he disappeared into his bedroom and closed the door. Alexander sipped at his water and shuffled down the hall, frowning, feeling a sullen and lonely.


	16. Chapter 16

At twenty-six weeks pregnant, sitting up on an exam table while he finished cleaning up after his latest ultrasound, Alexander learnt that there was a possibility that his baby could hear him. The nerves in her ears were starting to develop more, and she was starting to take little tiny breathes in and out. She was so much bigger and heavier than the last time he’d seen her. He was told that she weighed almost two pounds, now.

“You’re not worried, are you?” Peggy asked while he put his sweater back on. Syalla was setting everything back into place, the monitor now dark. She’d run some tests beforehand. Urine, a blood sample. Told him that his blood pressure was a little high. She hadn’t looked too worried. Told him that it wasn’t by much, but that he had to take it easy.

“It might be genetic, honestly,” Syalla replied, giving Peggy a little smile. Alexander stepped down carefully from the exam table with his stomach in knots.

“But it could be something else,” Alexander stated, hopeful. Having some sort of genetic disease or disposition was the last thing that he wanted.

 “It could be,” she replied. Opened the door for the both of them. He followed behind her, back into her office. Took a seat and clasped Peggy’s hand in his own. Syalla took a seat behind her desk and picked up one of his previous blood tests.

“Unfortunately, since there isn’t a whole lot to go on regarding family health, I can only grasp at straws, but I can say that it isn’t something to worry about at this point.” She set the report down and gave Alexander a friendly look. “You’re fine, Alexander. You’re eating healthy, your weight is good, the baby is developing just as she should be. Sometimes this happens. Work, the stress of getting everything ready. Being pregnant can be hard for some people without even realising it. So, it happens.”

He asked her if there was anything he could do, to which she replied the way she always did. Take it easy, rest, get some easy exercise in, take it easy on the salt and caffeine. Decided that she’d book him in for a follow-up appointment in the next fortnight so that she could check on it. Told him that he’d start having more frequent examinations once his third trimester rolled around anyway. He thanked her, new picture in hand, despite the fact that he had to pay for them now. He couldn’t help it. Besides, Thomas would want to see, neck deep in the court case he was currently heading as he was.

Peggy followed him home despite the fact that she had somewhere to be, apparently. She’d come by after work to drop off a wrapped gift that she’d told him was from Eliza. The pram, Alexander had discovered, a smile on his face. A note attached, with Eliza’s handwriting and a bunch of love heart stickers. He hadn’t had the chance to unbox it yet; it was sitting in his room along the closet door.

She took the liberty of ransacking his fridge while Alexander took to the sofa. Laid back on his side with a cushion wedged between his thighs and his head propped up by another two, feeling drained. He’d asked the other two to come over as well, but Angelica was in Geneva, on a work trip, and Eliza was, apparently, on a date. On a Wednesday night, of all times.

“You’re taking pity on me,” he called to Peggy, who was eating his peanut butter with a spoon. She brought it over and sat on the opposite sofa, legs folded underneath her. Smiled around the utensil in her mouth and ignored him. Paused, distracted. Alexander closed his eyes, feeling weirdly agitated. Like he was experiencing a sensory overload. The _air_ of all things, was starting to annoy him.

“You live here,” Peggy muttered in a odd tone, like she was only just realising it. Alexander opened his eyes to look at her. Didn’t quite catch up to what she was saying.

“No,” she replied, frowning, her eyes flickering around the room. With more conviction, she said, “You live here.”

Alexander frowned. “Um. Yes?”

Peggy looked at him. Smiled after a few seconds. “I just think it’s interesting. You and Thomas moving in was so abrupt. I’ve only been here a few times. I just didn’t realise how quickly you both adjusted to living with each other.”

She sounded amused, a little impressed. Alexander chuckled, followed her lead and gazed over to where she was staring at the television unit-without-a-television. It was stacked with little things, here and there. Alexander’s mug from that morning, probably half full. A watercolour painting, framed, from a girl that Thomas had met through his work. A few of Alexander’s books from when he’d leave them about and Thomas was tidying up. By that, just under the window, there was a large, braided basket that Thomas had bought for him. Filled it with soft throw blankets and fluffy cushions that Alexander could snuggle into whenever he chose the sofa as his workplace. A place he could put everything so that he’d stop leaving them laying on the sofa or the dining chairs whenever he was done with them. So that Thomas wouldn’t have to complain about it whenever Alexander did it.

In retaliation, Alexander had bought him a set of fancy looking encyclopaedias, with the comment that maybe people would like Thomas more if he was a little more educated. A joke, but Thomas had accepted them graciously anyway. Made the habit of taking one out every so often and reading it aloud to Alexander just to annoy him.

During one of the later weeks, when Alexander was starting to feel like he could actually live there, he’d bought a rug to replace the plain, grey one that Thomas had put down. Black and white, with thick diamond shapes. Thomas had complained about it to no end. Threatened to throw it in the bin when Alexander wasn’t home, but it was still there, despite Alexander goading him to do it.

Their home life was mixed together quite a lot. It was as much of a shock to him than it had been to anyone else. Alexander could get the impressed little smile that Peggy had on her face.

Thomas hunched down the hall while Alexander was putting the home-made pizzas in the oven to cook. It was nearing eight, and Peggy was just doing her laces up when Thomas came in, frown in place, and gave them both a muttered, gruff “hey”. Disappeared into his bedroom and shut the door without another glance. Alexander barely caught it, anyway, bent down with an oven tray in his hand as he was. Only just caught the door closing. Looked up to give Peggy a questioning look.

“Bad day, I guess,” she muttered, her tone questioning. Alexander shrugged. “Maybe you should say something to him,” she suggested, which made Alexander chuckle.

“No, actually, I’m going to take a Xanax and avoid that as much as possible,” he joked. Shut the oven door and shuffled back over to sit next to her on the couch. “He’s always in his own head like that when he’s on a case. I’ve learnt to just ignore it.”

Peggy smiled. Wrapped a hand around his waist and squeezed. “Make a deal with me?” She asked, tone innocent.

“As long as it doesn’t involve my kid,” Alexander muttered. Grinned when she pulled a face at him.

“Unfortunately, Alexander, everything involves your kid now,” she remarked. Stood up from the couch and wandered over to where her coat was hanging over one of the chairs. “But, no. I was just going to suggest that we all have dinner sometime? Like, we haven’t in ages.”

Alexander slumped back against the sofa and stretched his legs out. Groaned at the strain it put on his back. “’We?’” He muttered.

“You, me, John. Hercules if he’s around. Eliza, if she promises not to complain the whole way through it.” She put her coat on and buttoned it up, pulled her phone from her pocket. “Ask Thomas if he wants to come. We’ll go somewhere kid-friendly and get high on soda and popcorn.”

Alexander chuckled up at her. Was about to reply when her head snapped up from her phone and she exclaimed, “movie night!”

Alexander sat up. “Sure, let’s do something kid-friendly. Pretend it’s someone’s birthday and book a slot at Chuck E. Cheese.”

Peggy put a hand on her hip and stuck her tongue out. Alexander smiled at how cute she looked with her hair all fluffy and frizzy.

“Okay,” he muttered. Stood up and rubbed his back. “Movie night. Ask John if we can highjack his place. I’ll be there.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, to which he mimicked until she got over it. “You better be. I’ll do some planning since you sure as hell won’t.”

He walked her to the door, watched her adjust her woollen headband over her ears. Hitch her tote bag on her shoulder. Leaned in to give her a hug. It was a little awkward with his stomach in the way.

When Peggy leaned back, she gave him a smile that could almost be a smirk.

“What?” He muttered. Peggy breathed out a little laugh, her shoulders hunching in. Shrugged, shoved her hands into her pockets.

“I was just wondering, since you’ve always been so liberal and unashamed to talk about your sex life.” She paused for a few seconds, grinning. Alexander sighed all dramatically because he knew where this was going.

“No,” he muttered before she could get a word in. “We don’t have sex anymore.”

Peggy laughed quietly. Alexander wasn’t embarrassed about this stuff with her. She was really the only one that he’d loosen his tongue with.

“Why not?” She scoffed. “You know you can, right? Angelica said her and John were having sex right up until it was time.”

Alexander sighed and pushed a hand into her face. She reeled back, screeching a little, and slapped his arm away. “I didn’t need to know that. Thanks,” he muttered dryly. Peggy laughed.

“I’m just saying. I’m trying to help. I’ve done tons of research, trust me.” Alexander didn’t doubt it. “I’ve read that it even feels really good for some people.”

Alexander went to shove a hand back into her face, but she saw it coming this time. Laughed and ducked away. Backed herself against the closed door.

“Alright Peggy, take a fucking walk,” he muttered. Then, for good measure, put a hand on his stomach and muttered, “look at me, I’m the size of a hot air balloon. How does pregnant sex even _work_?”

He’d never thought it necessary to look into it the way she probably had. He’d even skipped that whole chapter in his little pregnancy guidebook. After everything, after Alexander admitting to himself that having sex even now wasn’t off the table, he’d gone and assumed that Thomas wasn’t even interested. Their whole dynamic was thrown off now. A system where they didn’t talk about it, didn’t acknowledge it and didn’t do it unless they were both drunk. Alexander wasn’t in the habit of shaming the way he looked now. He didn’t lose sleep over the thought that Thomas – or anyone, really – might not find him attractive anymore. He didn’t care about the stretch marks or how big he was getting or the way his hair was getting oily and thick and gross if he didn’t wash it often, but Thomas probably didn’t find any of that a turn-on. It wasn’t like they’d started having sex because they were attracted to each other’s personality.

In saying that, though, the high oestrogen levels _were_ slowly killing him. So much so, that it wasn’t uncommon for him to wake up hard. To sneak into the bathroom and scrub off the scent of his own arousal before anyone else could catch it on him.

Peggy rolled her eyes and scoffed. “I don’t know, get creative. Google it.” She grinned. “Speak to Thomas about it. I’m sure he’d love to help.”

Highly unlikely. “I’ll pass. Thanks,” he muttered. Didn’t want to open a fresh can of worms while they were standing in the hallway with Thomas behind one closed door.

Peggy didn’t budge. She folded her arms and stood tall. “What the hell, Alex. You talk about this shit all the time. What’s the problem?”

Alexander sighed. “You’re overthinking, Peggy, relax. We can’t. We live together now. That’s too much for me. I can’t casually fuck the guy I’m living with.” There was something there. Something more he wanted to say. He wanted to open up to her and get it out, but he was still trying figure it out himself; this weird thing where he wanted Thomas to touch him constantly. _We’re too involved now. I don’t know if it would work._

Peggy was always so observant, though. Always the sister that saw through people. She shrugged, a smile on her face that made her glow. She turned around and unlatched the deadlock. Opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. “Thanks for letting me come today.”

Alexander returned her smile. “Thanks for coming, even if you had to ditch date night with your boyfriend.”

Peggy shrugged a shoulder. She opened her mouth, looked like she was about to reply, before she shut it again. Paused.

Alexander frowned. “What?”

Her answer was to laugh. A tiny thing, like a titter, into her hand. “You’re so transparent, Alexander,” she called. It wasn’t a quiet statement, either. It felt like it echoed off the walls. “You want to tell me how you really feel?”

Alexander pulled a face. “Peggy,” he said. Just that, his tone disapproving. Frowned at her. “Another time,” he muttered, although he didn’t mean for it to sound so specific. _Not that_ , was what he meant.

Peggy shrugged both shoulders. Buried her hands into her pockets and gave him a casual look. “Okay. Relax. Go take that Xanax. Chat later.”

He didn’t linger. Gave her a smile and shut the door, the deadbolt latching back into place. Swallowed the feelings in his throat and wandered back into the kitchen.

He had the intention of pulling his laptop out from the desk in his bedroom. Checking the pizzas really quickly before setting up shop at the table and going through his insurances policies. When he rounded the corner, he wasn’t expecting to see Thomas standing there. Leaning back against the counter, facing away from the entryway. Alexander almost stopped, his face heating up.

 _Fuck._ Alexander hadn’t heard his door open. The hallway was tiny, there was no way that Thomas didn’t hear what they’d been talking about. They’d barely kept their voices down.

Alexander groaned inwardly, his pulse picking up. Rounded the kitchen island to get to the fridge, eyes anywhere but Thomas. From his peripheral, he could see that Thomas was on his phone, a mug in hand. Had changed out of his work clothes into jeans and a sweatshirt, the sleeves pulled up his forearms. Alexander tried to quell the immediate anxiety that leapt up. The prospect that Thomas was going to say something about it. He started pulling things out, his mind on making a salad that they could both eat.

It was silent except for Alexander’s rummaging. He pulled the Santorini tomatoes out of the crisper and dumped them on the counter. Grabbed the spinach and rocket leaves in their respective packets, along with the balsamic vinegar and some mustard. Grabbed one of the blue serving bowls from a cabinet and a wooden chopping board from the stack in the pantry. Maybe if Thomas wasn’t standing right there, he’d just chop everything up and drop it into the bowl. Alexander had no qualms about eating unwashed vegetables. He pulled a face as he grabbed a strainer from one of the cupboards. Shoved everything in and ran it all under the sink. It was jarring, the way the silence stretched on, Thomas’s attention elsewhere. It was usually like that, but it was always comfortable. Alexander was waiting for him to say something.

“Eliza sent a gift today,” he muttered, trying to find some semblance of normal or comfortable. Glanced over at Thomas, who took a few seconds to return it.

“Eliza? What was it?” He asked. Set his phone down and brought his mug to his lips. Alexander placed a tomato down on the chopping board and started cutting it into little wedges.

“The pram she promised.”

Thomas frowned for a second, like he’d forgotten. Set his mug back down on the counter and chuckled. “I thought she’d forgotten.”

“So did I,” Alexander muttered back, eyes on what he was doing. Thomas’s phone buzzed against the marble counter and he let out a frustrated sigh as he picked it up.

Everything descended back into silence, only, Alexander paused for a second to take it the hard frown on Thomas’s face. “Did something happen?” He asked, genuinely curious. Sometimes Thomas came home stressed or too focused on work, but he never looked _mad_ about it.

Thomas was quiet for a few seconds. Tapped out something quick on his phone. “My assistant fucked something up,” he muttered, focused. Set his phone back down and rubbed at his temples.

“Do you even need an assistant?” He asked casually. Moved onto wringing out the rocket and tipping it into the bowl. “Your job can’t be that complicated.”

Although, apparently, Thomas was in more of a shitty mood than that because he shot Alexander an annoyed little frown. Pressed his mug to his mouth and ignored Alexander.

Okay, fine. Whatever. Alexander pulled a face and concentrated on what he was doing. Checked the timer on his phone for the pizzas. Pulled a little bowl out to start mixing the olive oil and the vinegar.

“You know,” he muttered, tone light, trying for a joke, maybe. “Maybe you should work on not coming home in a shitty mood.”

He mixed everything in the bowl in the silence that followed. Covered it up and put it in the fridge. Let the salad sit there while he opened the oven to check that everything was okay.

“Sure, why don’t I just try that,” Thomas muttered a little belatedly, sarcastically. Alexander straightened up and glanced at the annoyed look on his face. “In the meantime, maybe you should work on not having your private conversations in places where people can hear them.”

Alexander paused, pulled a face. Okay, so he heard. He flushed, trying to ignore the little bit of embarrassment that he felt. Thomas ignored him as he said it, eyes still down on the screen. Didn’t look up. Alexander set the salad aside and wandered down into his room. Had nothing to say to that because, honestly, did it matter? Did Thomas even hear anything that he didn’t already know?

Alexander fidgeted anyway. Ran the conversation back through his head. Picked his laptop up off the desk and unplugged the charger. Shuffled back through the kitchen, past Thomas, swiping his phone along the way. Settled down on the sofa with a niggling of unease settling in his belly.

It didn’t matter, anyway.

* * *

 

 He got back with forty-five minutes to spare before Angelica was going to arrive. Set the canvas shopping bag down on the counter and started pulling out the half a dozen things he’d picked up from his quick trip out. There was music playing through the Bluetooth speaker that was set up on one of the side table; some Spanish piece with a guitar and a slow tempo. Thinking music, he’d come to learn. Whenever Thomas was in the middle of writing something out for a case. He’d heard the album so many time that the lyrics were starting to stick in his head.

Put both cartons of milk into the fridge, along with the lettuce. The bottle of red wine on the rack in the pantry. Shrugged off his jacket and wandered down the hall so that he could throw it onto his bed. Pulled out the last piece of groceries he’d picked up and hung the shopping bag on the hook underneath the sink. Grabbed the glass jar and wandered around the corner to where Thomas was sitting at the dining table. Laptop out, his brows pulled down in concentration, papers scattered here and there, surrounded by the few neon highlighters that he was using to go over important pieces of information. Had said something about his closing statement that morning.

Alexander wasn’t keen to interrupt, though. He set the glass down on the table next to Thomas’s left elbow without a comment, despite that he had one. It barely broke through Thomas’s concentration until Alexander wandered over to the coffee table and took his seat back down on the rug. Threw the teal blanket back over his crossed legs and tapped at the space bar to wake it back up.

“You got this for me?” Thomas asked, a tone of surprise. Alexander turned to watch him look up from the jar of artichokes in his hand and give him a little smile. He said it as if Alexander didn’t pay for the groceries with their joint account.

“You owe me for it, don’t worry,” he muttered. Brought up one of the web pages he’d been looking at. “I had to scour half the city for it.”

The sound of the chair scraping back, and then Thomas wandered into the kitchen to dig through the cutlery drawer. “You can get it at Whole Foods, you know? There’s one down the street.” He was obviously being sarcastic.

Alexander brought his email up and highlighted the name of another hospital that he wanted to look into. Pasted it into Google. “I’m too poor to shop at Whole Foods,” he muttered in that same tone. Adjusted the blanket over his cold, socked feet.

Thomas chuckled. Alexander caught the sound of the jar opening. As decided by the both of them, he was looking into the different maternity wards that Syalla could deliver at. Wanted to check out each hospital and see what was on offer, and what sort of things that his insurance covered. He had his prenatal classes booked, and his next doctors visit scheduled. Had everything down as far as he could see, besides this. It tended to give him a headache, though. He kept getting stuck on what sort of things he wanted. Was trying to justify the reason why he’d want a room with a hot tub or what sort of doctor would be delivering his child if Syalla couldn’t for some reason. He was trying to get through everything without feeling overwhelmed. His doctor had to be an omega, no questions asked, despite Thomas’s comment that it probably wouldn’t matter. Postpartum care was also something he wanted to prioritize, even if everything went perfectly. He had an idea of who he wanted in the room with him when the time came, although he knew that it could possibly change on the day.

Mostly, he just wanted everything to stop being so complicated. The insurance, figuring out and writing down how much everything was going to cost, which hospital and how he wanted everything to go. It was starting to feel like an awful chore.

Instead of taking back up his spot at the table, Thomas came and took a seat on the sofa, close enough that he could see over Alexander’s shoulder.

“You’re still on this?” He muttered, distraction enough the Alexander looked up and watched him stick his fork into the oily vegetable jar he had grasped in one hand. He grimaced and sat up straight. Put his hands on his back and tried to rub out the tension, the ache that sat along his spine.

“I’m over it,” he grumbled, his attention on the screen. Read through some of the information, his own knuckles kneading in along his sides. Considered taking his laptop into the bathroom and running a bath.

“Didn’t she suggest a few?” Thomas asked. Set the jar down on the table and leaned forward. “Your back hurts,” he tacked on.

Alexander hummed. Brought a hand up to scroll down. Rubbed at a temple. Rolled his back up and arched in as much as possible. He was distracted, annoyed, aching. Felt like crawling into his bed with his kindle and the heater on as high as it could go. Lay down with a pillow wedged between his legs and another one underneath his bump. Relax and wait for Angelica to arrive with peanut butter cookies and her pink lemonade that he’d begged her to make. Sitting in an office chair all day wasn’t helping his case at all.

Alexander moved the mouse to click another link. Jolted a little when Thomas leaned forward and pushed at the coffee table. Enough that it moved further away from Alexander and the sofa that he’d had his back to.

“What are you doing?” He muttered, annoyed. Thomas pressed a hand against his back.

“Move forward,” he remarked, his hand insistent between Alexander’s shoulder blades. Alexander didn’t question it. Shuffled forward with his legs crossed until he had them back under the coffee table, his laptop right in front of him. He didn’t quite understand the point until Thomas settled in the space behind him. Legs stretched out on either side of Alexander, close.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he insisted, and then pressed his thumbs on either side of Alexander’s spine, right down on his lower back, where it always ached the most. It always hurt, even when Alexander did it himself, but as Thomas started moving his hands, Alexander almost melted at the relief. Pulled a face at the pain until Thomas started moving his thumbs in hard, soothing circles, his thumbs digging in, where the rest of his fingers kneaded closer to his sides.

Alexander almost immediately slumped back, just at the feeling of the tension being kneaded out in the places that he could never quite reach. Breathed out a long sigh and leaned his head heavily in the palm of his hand. Had to just sit there with his eyes closed and enjoy the way the ache faded underneath the harsh pressure.

“Good?” Thomas chuckled at him. Alexander grunted.

“You could pay someone to do this, you know,” Thomas remarked. Fanned his thumbs out wide, further away from Alexander’s spine, along his hips.

 “Or you could just do it,” Alexander muttered. Scrolled idly though another page with his other hand.

“I’m only paying you back for the artichokes. Don’t get used to this,” Thomas replied, tone light-hearted. Alexander picked up his mug, long since gone cold, and took a big, obtrusive sip of his stale green tea, muttered a bored “’kay” and set the mug down a little dramatically back on the glass top of the table. Thomas scoffed, disturbing the hair by Alexander’s ear, and retaliated by poking a finger into Alexander’s side.

“Don’t be rude,” Alexander muttered quietly. Saved the webpage for the hospital he was on. His next option on the list was a birthing centre, that Alexander came to discover would be cheaper in the long run. Despite letting them know, his individual health insurance wasn’t going to cover a whole lot. He had to be careful here. Had a notebook full of hospitals and birthing centre that he’d already spoken to. A list of numbers that ranged from three thousand to seven, with all the pros and cons that that made everything a little more difficult.

“You’re making this more complicated than it needs to be,” Thomas muttered as Alexander switched back over to his email and added another name to the search bar. He had a system, now. First, he’d check the distance from home, then facilities, then cost.

“You know, she’s never let us down,” Thomas continued when Alexander didn’t reply. “You have your own room, a bath, and a few hours to relax after you’ve given birth. Aren’t those all the things that you want.”

Alexander sighed. They’d had this conversation a few times, and he was starting to get bored of it.

“Isn’t it your turn to make dinner?” He muttered instead. Took a second to be still and relax into the knuckles that were kneading further up along his back.

“Do we _have_ turns?” Thomas mumbled. Changed the grip and started with the heels of his hands instead. Alexander closed his eyes and slumped further down. Let his arms cross over each other on the table so that he could lean his head down on them. He had to shuffle back a bit so that there wasn’t any strain on his neck, but he was still feeling cold, and having Thomas so close lessened it just a little.

“We do, now,” Alexander replied, quiet. The soft guitar was still playing over the speaker, filling the room in between the silence with soft ambience. Thomas kept at it with the heels of his palms. Rubbed soothing circles up until he reached Alexander’s should blades. Used his thumbs to work in between them. The ache wasn’t so bad here, and it hurt the first few minutes, but Alexander kept still. Let Thomas work out all of the tension that he had sitting there.

“Ang is coming over soon,” He mumbled into his arm, his voice muffled. His lower back ached in a satisfying kind of way.

Thomas sighed. “Thanks for the heads up,” he muttered. Rubbed his fingers up over Alexander’s shoulder blades. “Am I making dinner for her as well?”

Alexander didn’t reply. He tensed a little bit. Hunched his shoulders for a few seconds, until Thomas pressed his fingers up over Alexander’s shoulders, right over the muscles in his neck. Alexander's eyes flickered open a little, his vision blurring. Tried not to stiffen, teeth catching his bottom lip before he could realise and stop it. He was acutely away of how close Thomas was to his scent glands. That he could just move a little further down, press his fingers along them, gentle. How good it would feel.

Alexander wondered whether he should move. Whether he should make some sort of joke or direct Thomas’s ministrations somewhere else. Direct the attention away from his neck. His fingers were light and skating. Warm when he dug his nails into Alexander’s hairline. Alexander’s chest ached a little, body feeling a little less relaxed. He wanted Thomas to press his _lips_ there.

Thomas’s chuckle almost made Alexander jolt. “I think I deserve a little more payment considering how much you’re enjoying this,” he remarked casually. He sounded unfazed and ignorant of the headache this was currently giving Alexander.

Alexander pressed his teeth harder into his lip and hummed in response. His eyes flickered closed. He concentrated on the press of Thomas’s fingers, gentle now. The way they curved over the sides of his neck. Took breaths a little bigger than normal to calm down a little. Let the time pass just like that, his emotions fuzzy, the changing of each minute melting into something distant and inconsequential. It was stupid how much this was getting to him. For someone, for an _alpha,_ to be so close to his neck like that, it got to him.

Thomas smoothed his hands down Alexander’s shoulder blades, no longer pressing in. “If I’m making you uncomfortable…” he started, his tone quiet and steady.

Alexander shifted his head a little. Let his head fall more to the side. “You’re not,” he murmured. Cringed at how breathless he sounded. Had to take a breath and push aside the autopilot part of his brain that was telling him to get out. “You’re really not.”

His jaw tensed, brows pulling into a grimace. He wanted it. He wanted it so bad. For a reason he didn’t currently care for, he wanted Thomas to put his fingers there, to run his fingers over them, to press softly. Not for any biological, omega thing, but because he wanted Thomas to touch him.

He _hated_ how that made him feel.

Thomas sighed, mixed with a quiet chuckle that sounded like it came from his chest. Hands moving back up his shoulders, back over his neck. Pushed Alexander’s hair aside gently. Let it fall away from his exposed neck. Ran his nails through Alexander’s hairline again, scratching lightly. Kneaded along the back of his neck for some time. Soft touches that didn’t do anything for the knots, but it eased the tension and the stiffened way that Alexander was holding his shoulders.

A hand started to sink slowly down Alexander’s arm. The one that wasn’t supporting his head, so he’d let it fall into his lap. Brushed down along his sweater. Threaded their fingers together, and Alexander just went with it, because it was a thing, now and because it made him feel good. Almost opened his mouth to say something about the lack of back rubs he was getting. Almost opened his mouth just to say ‘thank you’.

Thomas shifted, silent. Pressed himself against Alexander’s back. Alexander leaned back into it, his pulse sitting in his throat just a little. He liked that. Thomas’s other hand, his fingers, settled in the strands of Alexander’s hair, tugged a little bit. It was good. It felt good, the slight sting. Made Alexander feel stretched out and sticky. A contradiction; the way he was so relaxingly on-edge.

“You’re scent…” Thomas muttered quietly, trailing off, and Alexander flushed a little harder. Didn’t get much further than a soft noise that came from his chest. Of course, because Alexander wasn’t on scent blockers anymore. It was all there for Thomas to take it. All there for him to interpret. Alexander didn’t know what his scent was doing, this was new for him as well; being so long off his scent blockers.

Maybe that was okay, though. Thomas said nothing more. Clasped tight to Alexander’s hand, pressing his fingers gently underneath Alexander’s hair. It was _good_. It satisfied that ache that Alexander didn’t really know was there.

The buzzer eventually went off, though, the shrill sound of it coming from the phone by the door. Thomas jolted a little. Alexander wasn’t expecting the noise, but he was so far in his head that he barely noticed until Thomas moved. Pulled back a little. Dropped his hand from Alexander’s hair.

Alexander opened his eyes. Let his own hand drop down. “Angelica,” he muttered, shifting. Thomas ran his hand along Alexander’s back.

“I’ll get it,” he said, and moved away. Shuffled back until he could get both legs up and stand. The second that he moved away, a wave of something weird hit Alexander. He sat up properly and watched Thomas disappear down the hall. Face flushed further, a tidal wave of emotions hitting him, the biggest one being _embarrassment_ of all things.

God, what the _fuck._

He shifted back as well. Had to move around. Knew that his face was probably really flushed. Moved his hair back and rubbed his sleeve against his scent gland. Listened to the door open, to Angelica’s friendly greeting.

 _Don’t be weird about this,_ he chanted in his head. Hoped Thomas would pick it up.

He shut his laptop. Used the sofa as leverage so that he could get up. Pressed a hand against his warm face and scowled. Wandered into the kitchen and pulled a glass from the cabinet; filled it up with water.

“Hey, you,” Angelica called, a bright smile on her face, as she appeared around the corner. Alexander took a sip from his glass and gave her a smile.

“You’re early,” he muttered light-heartedly. Angelica came around the island and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Set her bag on the island as Thomas appeared as well.

“Sorry, did I interrupt your party?” Angelica chuffed, digging out a Tupperware container.

Alexander’s embarrassment was still in full force but Thomas, apparently, had no shame whatsoever, because he shot Alexander a loaded smile and answered with a “yes, actually” in Angelica’s direction. Alexander pressed his glass to his lips and tried to snap out of it.

“All right, well _you_ don’t get cookies,” Angelica replied. Shook the container in Alexander’s direction.

Alexander set his glass down. “He doesn’t get any, anyway. They’re mine,” he remarked, completely serious. Took it from her and opened the lid, pressed his nose into it so that he could catch the scent of the sugar and the peanut butter.

Angelica settled back against the counter next to him and gave him a smile. “I forgot the lemonade.”

Alexander’s expression dropped. His head whipped around to look at her. At the indulgent smile she had on her face.

“I hate you,” he muttered, frowning. “I literally asked you for one thing.”

Angelica laughed. In his peripheral he caught Thomas settling back at the table in front of his computer.

“I’m sorry,” Angelica said, grinning. Alexander scoffed and picked at one of the cookies. “I was in a rush, okay? It’s been a stressful day.”

Alexander didn’t doubt that. She’d texted him when she’d flown in, sometime around six, to tell him that she wasn’t going to work.

“How was it stressful?” He muttered with no heat. Shoved half of the cookie into his mouth and tried not to make an embarrassing noise at how good it was. Rich and sugary and crunchy from the little pieces of peanut butter.

Angelica shoved him gently. “It was, okay? I sort of worked from home. My assistant’s off sick.”

Alexander shot her a disdainful look. “Why does everyone have one of those but me?” He muttered sarcastically.

Angelica leaned over the counter to look at Thomas. “Are you working?” She called.

Thomas stopped typing to glance up at her. “Yup,” he muttered. Looked like he was ready to get back to his closing statement. Angelica nodded her head and straightened up. Tugged at the bottom of Alexander’s sweatshirt as she breezed past, prompting him to follow. They both wandered down the hall and into Alexander’s bedroom, the door closing behind them.

Alexander took his cookies and settled on the bed, his stomach growling for more food. Angelica made sure the door clicked shut before she dumped her bag down and turned to stare at Alexander.

“Did you guys have sex in there?” Was the first thing out of her mouth, and Alexander wasn’t expecting it all. Gave her a weird look.

“No,” he answered, his tone questioning. Angelica shuffled over and took a seat on the bed next to her with her legs crossed.

“You reek of pheromones.”

Alexander paused midbite and tried not to laugh at that. Probably completely out of context for Angelica, but it was sort of funny to him.

“We didn’t have sex in the living room, Angelica,” Alexander answered before he could think about it. _I wish,_ he thought helplessly. _He touched me, though._

A soft smile split across Angelica’s face. “But you _did_ have sex?”

Alexander set the container down on the bedside table and scooted in close so that he could lean back against the pillows. “No, actually.”

Angelica shifted so that she could mimic him. Stretched out on her side and threw a knee over his legs. “That’s not what your scents telling me,” she muttered.

Alexander rubbed a hand over his face and rolled his eyes. Not now. He wasn’t going to address this with anyone right now. If he never did, that would honestly be fine. His brain still felt a little bit fried.

“I was watching porn,” he muttered. Knew it would get a rise out of her.

Angelica slapped a hand against his arm and muttered a snarky “shut up”. Made herself comfortable on the bed.

“What have you even been doing?” She asked.

Alexander wasn’t sure what she meant. “Working, eating, breathing. Trying to survive?”

Angelica hummed. Folded her legs so that her torso was facing where Alexander was leaning against the wall. Played with the seam of her jeans.

“What have you been doing?” He retaliated. Angelica sighed, her face twisting a little.

“Same as you, I suppose,” she said, and Alexander picked up on the way her tone changed a little. “Surviving. I spoke to Artley the other day. She wanted to tell you about this aqua aerobics thing she found.”

Alexander chuckled. Shifted so that he could fold his legs as well. “You’ve given me a whole bunch, I think I’m good.” Then he paused, because there was something that he wanted to say, that he was a little embarrassed to.

“Does she do it, though?” He asked instead. “I’ll do it so long as I’m not alone.”

That seemed to appease Angelica a bit because her mouth lifted at the corners.

“Yeah, she does. She loves it. She loves swimming.”

Alexander hummed, asked her about Switzerland.

“It was nice, actually,” she replied softly, eyes downcast. “It’s always nice but I got to meet a few people from the London branch that were lovely. And the art…” she tacked on. Lifted her head to shoot a cheeky sort of look up at Alexander.

Alexander rolled his eyes. He always made it more of a big deal that it really was. Angelica loved art and history. It was a wonder to listen to people talk about the things that kept them breathing.

She settled against the wall just like Alexander. Made herself comfortable. Alexander wasn’t sure if she had work in the morning, but she’d wanted to come by for a visit, and Alexander was happy for her to stay as long as she wanted.

“John and I have been thinking about going somewhere,” Angelica sighed, hands wedged between her thighs. She was wearing casual clothes; black jeans with a brand top. It was unusual to see her look so normal. She liked to dress as classy as she was.

“Where to?” Alexander asked, hands on his stomach absently.

“Japan, maybe,” she replied, turning her head to look at him. She had an odd look on her face. Like she was talking about something she should be more excited about. “I wanted to hike Mount Fuji.”

That made Alexander laughed. He was expecting her expression to change, but it didn’t. “Can you even do that?” He asked disbelievingly. Angelica made a noise almost like a scoff.

“Yes, you can do that. It’s dangerous and hard, but we’ve both wanted to do it for some time.”

Alexander liked that about Angelica and John. That thing that made them click. That desire to seek off-road adventure. They both liked to go camping, to go hiking, to find some three-hundred-acre plot of land that they could stumble through. Rainforests and cliff edges and anywhere they could see wild animals.

Alexander liked pools. He liked the sun, and sand between his toes, and the sound of busy streets. Places where he could get lost. Places where people didn’t know him. It was a wonder when he’d first arrived.

“In the summer maybe. Maybe September,” she wondered out loud, and Alexander had to look at her for a second. Take in the way her hair curled in places, like she’d forgotten to straighten it that morning, the spots on her cheeks that made Alexander realise she wasn’t wearing as much make-up as usual. She looked a little strung out.

“You look like you could use a holiday,” he muttered. He expected her to roll her eyes.

“Yeah,” she muttered instead, frowning. Alexander was lost for a second.

“You’re freaking me out a little. You okay, Ang?” He asked. She looked at him imploringly, like she was shocked by that question. A smile took its time creeping over her lips.

“Yeah,” she muttered quietly. Reached out and clasped onto one of his hands. “I’m just feeling like I need a break, that’s all.”

Alexander sighed. “From work?” He asked, because they’d had this conversation more times than he cared to count.

“From life,” she said a little sullenly, and then laughed. Alexander frowned. Flicked the thumb of his other hand on the side of his bump.

“Me too,” he muttered back, trying to lighten her mood, but he was also thinking about this. About the baby, and Thomas, and how he felt things for the both of them that he didn’t know what to do with.

But then something happened, and Angelica’s head turned to him slowly, her gaze different, her brows pulled down. She gave Alexander a look, almost like she was scolding him.

“Don’t say that,” she insisted, and her tone was hard, a huge contrast to a few seconds ago. “You’re so lucky.”

Something cold hit Alexander dead centre in the chest. Some awful feeling that he was afraid would make an appearance.

“Okay,” he said, confused. Looked at the icy look Angelica was giving him and trying to figure out what to do with it. “I’m the luckiest.”

Angelica looked at him for a second, stationary. She had to turn at an uncomfortable to really achieve it, and she didn’t look happy.

“I’m sorry,” he said, but he wasn’t sure if that was true. Was she getting mad at him? Alexander was fumbling. “I’m allowed to have my own problems.”

Because that’s what she looked like. Like she was giving him this look for making his joking comment about getting away from life as well.

Angelica’s mouth twisted a little. She stayed quiet, assessing. Alexander tried to squeeze her hand, but she didn’t react. It freaked him out a little.

“Ang – “

“You’re right, you are,” she said, and her voice was low and level. “But you’re not seriously complaining about the baby. A baby isn’t a _problem_ , Alexander.”

Alexander had to roll his eyes a little at how she was interpreting his words. “That’s not what I said.”

Angelica scoffed quietly. “Insinuating is the same thing. What problems could you possibly have right now?” She asked him, and her voice turned into something shrill, something different, something that Alexander hadn’t heard in a while. She had that mean tone. The one she used when she was judging someone.

Alexander sighed loudly, sat back and as far from her as he could. “That’s not what I’m saying,” he remarked, trying to appease a little. “Relax Ang, you don’t have to get so defensive. It’s just not easy. I’m just having a hard time getting through a few things.

The pregnancy, he meant. The whole goddamn thing. The fine print.

“Like what? You’re not doing it alone, Thomas is here. We’re here,” she said in that same tone. Her body language was weird; like she wanted to jump up and away from him

“A bit different. Can we change the subject now?” He asked, because he wanted this to stop.

“How is it different?” She asked, and this time she moved. Jumped up from the bed. Moved over to take a seat at his desk chair.

“Because you planned it, Ang. You knew what it was doing. You had John,” Alexander grunted, and then he got up as well.

“You have Thomas,” Angelica replied, and Alexander had to really stop and think about that.

“Thomas has Thomas,” he muttered, and then he put his hand on the doorknob and looked at her. “John loves you, that’s why it’s different.” Then he opened the door almost the entire way. “Do you want some water? I need to cool down.”

Because this conversation was dumb, and Alexander was stumbling to find where it was coming from.

Only, Angelica could only stare for a few seconds, frowning, her lips thinned out. Looked ragged and tired and mad. Stood up slowly, her gaze icy.

“I think I’ll go,” she said instead. “You think I’m being bitchy.”

Alexander almost ran his head into the door out of frustration.

“Yes, a little bit, and I can’t fix it because I don’t even know what I did. You made this into a weirdly huge thing.”

Angelica stayed quiet, but she looked at him for a few seconds. brushed past him without another word. Left Alexander standing there in the doorway, at a loss.

He followed her out. Down the hall, towards the door. She picked her bag up off the kitchen counter. Alexander watched her put her jacket and shoes on.

“You’re actually leaving?” He asked, bewildered.

“Yes,” she answered tersely.

Thomas wandered up behind Alexander, silent, and they both watched Angelica’s jerky, angry movements as she wound her chiffon scarf around her neck.

“Are you okay?’ He asked, and Alexander was almost annoyed. Thomas didn’t need to butt in.

Angelica turned away from them. Put her handbag over her shoulder.

“Peachy,” she replied, and then the door was open, and she was slipping through it. Gone in a matter of seconds. Alexander had to stand there a few seconds just to make sure he wasn’t imagining it.

Thomas chuckled. “What did you do?” He asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. Alexander was almost annoyed.

“Nothing,” he muttered gruffly, but he wasn’t quite sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, its been a while.
> 
> I'd apologize for my absence, but I really needed some time off from this. I was in an accident and I'm on bed rest at the moment, but I really didn't feel like doing anything for this while I was resting.
> 
> I might update through the week, though, so keep an eye out.


	17. Chapter 17

The Saturday before Alexander was officially at twenty-seven weeks, and he was standing in the middle of a thrift store browsing through old records. His stomach was ever growing, his daughter closing in on two pounds. She kicked frequently, mostly during the afternoon, so much that Alexander was having a hard time figuring out whether he could feel it from the outside. She had a schedule now.

Martha looked like she was having the time of her life. Alexander was supposed to be keeping a lookout. Supposed to let her know when the baby kicked because she was sure she’d be able to feel it by now, but Alexander really didn’t want her to touch him anyway.

He was kind of looking at her, though. The thrift store wasn’t planned, but it was in between the spot that they’d agreed to meet at, and they’d just kind of gravitated towards it. Martha was… Well, Alexander didn’t really know how to describe what she was wearing. Didn’t know what word to put on it.

She was wearing a thick green coat long enough to touch her ankles. Dark green, army green. Tan leather boots, black fingerless gloves, a black beret. Underneath, she was wearing a blue and white striped blouse with little rainbows on it. Alexander didn’t know anyone who dressed like that.

It was in such stark contrast to the way that Thomas dressed, pressed shirts and black slacks, all dark neutral colours, that Alexander was trying to picture them together like that.

“Find anything you like?” She asked, coming up from behind him. Alexander turned around slightly to look at her. Saw that she had something thrown over her arm.

“Oh, Martha,” he muttered, reaching out and taking hold of the fabric. It was a pair of jeans, bright red, torn all down one leg. Alexander made a face. “I know why Thomas broke up with you.”

Martha’s face screwed up. Slapped a hand on his arm and stood up tall.

“Hush, you,” she said. Pulled the pair of jeans close to her chest. “Thomas liked my sense of fashion, thanks.”

Alexander chuckled, was about to step away, eyeing the DVD stand, when Martha reached out and laid her hand on his stomach. He didn’t know why, but it was like a reflex, the way he grimaced. Reached out and pushed her hand away.

“Martha, please,” he said, and had to stop for a second. Frowned at the sudden annoyance he felt. Martha didn’t look upset, but her eyebrows raised up.

“Just…” he said, placing his own hand over his stomach. “Warn me first?” He muttered, his tone lifting up into something light-hearted so that she wouldn’t take it personally.

Martha wasn’t one to be offended by anything petty, anyway. “Sorry,” she said, and looked like she meant it. Left him standing there again to go browse another rack.

“I want to try this on,” she called, and Alexander sighed, moving on. Rubbed a palm over his stomach while he wandered through a few aisles of men’s clothes. Feigned interest by pulling one out everyone so often. He had one hand clutched around his phone, the text message that Angelica had sent still with no reply.

 _Leave me alone_ , it said. The stones in Alexander’s chest felt like they were growing.

He gravitated over to the books by instinct. A few bins that advertised buy one get one free, and a few shelves with individual prices. Alexander started flicking through the kid’s section just out of habit, more because he liked having a few dozen on the bookshelf in his office for when the occasion arose. Pulled out a few that he knew, some that he didn’t. Admired a hardback copy of Alice in Wonderland that came with its own illustrations. Picked up a How To Catch A Star and flicked through it, smiling. Read it all the way through before he placed it back in its designated basket. Went about pushing books aside so that he could glance at the covers.

There was one there that caught his eyes. A lion’s paw peeking out from behind a few other books. Alexander stared down at it. Caught it by the scuffed, green edge and dragged it out of the basket. A purple and green book, the characters on the front drawn with bright colours. Frayed edges, watermarked, the colour having disappeared a little with time. It was an old copy and when Alexander held in gentle in his hands, opened the cover, the was an inscription there that read:

_Suzy,_

_Your imagination is your ultimate weapon_

_You will only conquer the world if you think that you can_

_Daunt_

Alexander had to smile. Wondered how old Suzy was to have received a children’s book with such an interesting message. Had to wonder how it ended up here at a Thrift store in Manhattan. Opened it up gingerly, with care. Listened to the way the stiff paper cracked as it was pulled. A hot air balloon greeted him, a little man in a bright green suit waving from the basket. Another page, a castle, reaching high into the air, bulbous and majestic, with its own flags and parapets.

The glasses were there, sitting in its little cover, the edges frayed. Still as green as Alexander could remember from his own copy, long gone now, but forever burned into his mind.

There were bright, coloured dots along the edge of one page, the other with its own little booklet attached, as the castle took up too much space for any storytelling. Alexander ran his fingers over them, the paper thick and smooth. Remembered the secret message that was hidden in it.

This book. He’d lost his. Sometime after his second foster home. Couldn’t remember where he’d left it.

Alexander sighed and closed it softly. He tucked it under his arm, along with two others, and wandered back over to the records. Flicked over to a sleeve titled _Buena Vista Social Club_ and took that one with him as well. Played with the jewellery stands by the counter while he waited.

Martha left with nothing but an aqua-coloured watch that didn’t have a battery, while Alexander piled all of his things into his backpack. Walked the two hundred metres to Palm Heights because Martha wanted a ruby latte. Alexander ordered an earl grey and convinced her that he needed to sit down for a few minutes.

“I couldn’t help it,” Martha muttered, draping her giant coat over her chair. “I met Ang, and I was kind of afraid of her at first.”

Alexander chuckled.

“Thomas was into all these things, you know? Like, all this modern history stuff, and he saw her reading a children’s book about the Holocaust, I think…”

It occurred to Alexander just how many times he’d heard of Thomas before they’d ever met. Only knew of him because Angelica had finished college before he had, due to the whole rehab thing. A work party, if he could remember correctly, because she’d landed an assistant job at the firm that Thomas had first started at, despite the fact that she had no interest in the position. Alexander had been in his last year of study when she’d taken that job. Almost four years ago, now.

“Weren’t you a little worried?” Alexander asked, more as a joke. Martha sat back in her chair and raised her eyebrows.

“’bout what?” She asked.

“About it not working out. I remember the way Angelica used to talk about him. Like she was a little in love with him”

Martha laughed softly. It made her chest rumble. She had a very prominent collarbone; Alexander’s eyes were drawn there a few times.

“Nah,” she said, and then took a sip of her latte. Set the cup back down on the saucer with a clink. “Thomas isn’t into people like that.”

Alexander raised his brows. “Like ‘that?’”

Martha leaned forward a little. “Like him,” she clarified, gesticulating. “he likes people who are way different than him.”

Alexander had to smile. “Like you,” he muttered, and chuckled at her narrowed gaze.

“Yeah,” she murmured back, smiling.

“But what about these bookstores?” Alexander asked, because that’s what they originally been talking about. Bookstores in London that were interesting enough to get lost in.

Martha chuckled and nodded, a faraway look in her eyes. Alexander realised that Martha seemed entirely at ease whenever she talked about her time abroad.

“London’s full of them, Alex. You’d love it,” she exclaimed, smiling. “When I say lost, I just mean that sometimes they’re small, but also very charming. There’s this one near Camden, I forget the name, and it’s kind of all overgrown with vines and branches. As soon as you step inside though, you’re in a different world. It’s full of old books that people kind of left behind.”

The sky was still clear when they stepped out. The rays of sunlight that touched his face felt good. He had three sunflowers sticking out of the top of his backpack, wrapped in clear cellophane and coloured wax paper. A gift that Martha had presented to him with a “happy nearly third trimester!” They were probably going to die before he got home, but as they walked, he at least tried to make sure they got some sunlight.

They ended up in Battery Park. A slow crawl that took close to forty-five minutes because Martha had her camera out. Had to stop every few blocks to take a picture. It was a lazy Saturday; Thomas was in New Jersey for the weekend, so Alexander had no plans. Didn’t want to think about the list of things that he needed to do before he got too much closer to his last trimester.

It was busy, as expected. People milling about, a queue for the ferry over to Staten Island. Camera’s and wide-brim caps and people with distinctly foreign ascents. Alexander gravitated over to one of the railings, Martha following. Tilted his head up into the breeze, closed his eyes. Felt the sun, listened to the sound of human traffic, the water, the city. The first time he’d stood there, so much younger than he was now, with nothing on his mind. A young boy with long, scraggly hair and clothes that barely fit him. A backpack with a hole in it, that he’d kept his books inside of.

Growing up surrounded by water, clear blue that went on forever, and yet, when he’d stood here, in the park with nothing but his mother and his only belongings, he’d felt some sort of settling peace.

It was strange now, to stand here and realise how much had changed. How different he was, especially after the last couple of months.

“I hate this feeling,” he said out loud, and he didn’t really know why. Stared out over the water with his elbows on the railing and sighed.

“What feeling?” Martha asked, lowering her camera. Alexander gazed over at her.

“Things are just changing a little too fast,” he answered, but he wasn’t sure if that was what he meant. Didn’t know how to articulate it out loud, because it barely made sense in his head.

 _I feel like I’m off rhythm_ , is what he wanted to say. _Like things are changing a little too fast for me to keep up._

Like, there was the baby and there was Thomas and every little feeling that Alexander had for him, too many for him to really understand. The future, and all the things that needed to be done before that. The name picking and the insurance that barely covered anything and the overall helplessness that he was trying not to feel. The distinct and unpleasant feeling of being elated one week, only to feel hopelessly lost the next. He wasn’t used to asking for help. He couldn’t ring Catherine on a bad day and ask what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to survive. He was supposed to get through this on his own. He didn’t know how to be any other way.

So, he was aware, vaguely, that he was probably doing this wrong. That he was supposed to be open about this sort of thing.

He just didn’t know _how_.

“Fair,” Martha said, and nothing else. Alexander smiled wistfully, thankful for any lack of advice. Martha was good at listening. Sometimes that’s what Alexander needed.

He bit his lip, though. Wanted to say more, wanted to get it out.

“You want an ice-cream?” He said instead. Martha looked over at him, dark hair highlighted by the sun, and chuckled.

They wandered around until ten past three and, by that point, Alexander’s legs started to hurt. Had to sit down at almost every bench they could find so that he could stretch his back out.

“Maybe you just need a nap?” Martha suggested, her camera over her face. Alexander was trying to ignore that the lens was pointed in his direction.

“Not yet,” he muttered, distracted by a girl in a Star Wars tee shirt, a toy plane in hand.

“You know what you haven’t told me yet?” Martha asked, and Alexander heard the shutter from her camera and turned his face further away.

“How much I enjoy my own personal space?” He replied. She gave him a snort.

“About your first kiss,” she chuckled. He watched her stare down at the screen, the dial clicking as she ran through the pictures she’d taken.

Alexander hummed. Thought that maybe if he went home now, he could do some cleaning. Mop the floor, organize the food cabinet. “It wasn’t that interesting.”

“How old were you?” Martha scooted down next to him where he was sat on the stairs on an apartment block, his legs stretched out in front of him.

Alexander tried to think back. The end of his senior year in high school, maybe. “Seventeen.”

“Was he your boyfriend?” Martha asked, and Alexander looked at her. Sat forward a little so that he could tie his hair into a bun.

“No. Why do you want to know?”

Martha set her camera down. Gave him a smile. “Can I not know more about you?” She asked cheekily, but the smile wilted a little. “I’ve only dated two people before.”

Three. Alexander had only dated three, it wasn’t like he was far in front of that. “None of mine lasted, though,” he said, and then, “Thomas and who?”

Martha took a breath and sighed. Alexander was starting to shiver a little. It wasn’t all that cold, but they were out of the sun, and he had his jacket down on the step in front of him.

“A friend of a friend,” she said, her mouth twisting comically. “I don’t know why, I really didn’t like him. He was just hot, I guess.”

Alexander chuckled. “I get it,” he muttered, and mimicked the small grin Martha shot at him.

“Were you ever in love with anyone?” She asked. Alexander almost scoffed.

“No. No, not at all,” he said, and then stared off into the distance. The girl was still there on the other side of the street, her hair swaying as she raced from one chalk line that she’d drawn, down to the other. “College was weird, so none of my relationships really lasted.”

And he’d had terrible self-esteem growing up, but he didn’t want to admit that.

Martha gave him a look. “Not ever?”

Alexander shrugged.

“Harsh,” Martha sort of whispered, like she genuinely felt sorry for him. It made Alexander chuckle.

“I don’t think so, anyway,” he said, thinking back. Those months before rehab. “How can you tell?”

And then Martha turned to him fully, her whole body changing direction, a small smile on her face. “You know,” was all she said.

Alexander had to roll his eyes. He thought, briefly, of John. John and Lafayette and the way they were both turning each other soft and satisfied.

“Sounds fake,” he muttered.

“No, seriously. You just know. It’s like you can’t breathe,” she said, and Alexander laughed, surprisingly amused by that comment.

“You got that out of a book,” he said, smiling. Martha smacked him lightly on the arm.

“People write it like that because it’s true. It also sucks,” she tacked on, and Alexander had to laugh again.

“Why?”

“Because then you feel like everyone can see your heart, even though they can’t. And you don’t feel like a person anymore. You feel like a cloud or something.”

She said it a little weirdly. Spaced out, like her mind was caught on something else. The smile sort of fell from Alexander’s face. His gaze found the road, cars passing through, sunlight filtering in through trees. Stared at the asphalt and the cracks in the sidewalk.

* * *

 

 Catherine called him while he was on break Monday afternoon.

“I found him,” she said, and Alexander had to suck in a breath.

“Does he have time?” Alexander asked, and his heart sort of lodged itself in his throat. Catherine sighed softly on the other end.

“You’re a functioning adult now, Alexander. You do this part on your own,” she replied, and Alexander had to laugh.

“Am I, though?” He joked and settled back in his chair. “Thank you, Catherine,” he murmured. He was nervous and apprehensive, but he meant it.

“Are you okay?” Her tone was neutral when she asked, but Alexander had to wonder whether she thought he was slipping.

He settled back a little more. Paused, leaned his head back, stared at the ceiling. Listened to his foster mother breath softly on the other end. Was he okay?

“I think I could be better,” he muttered lamely.

* * *

 

 James was starting to smile a little more the closer it got to closing time. Alexander sat across from him and had to wonder whether it was just because of the wine.

“You look lost,” Thomas leaned over and muttered, his breath tickling Alexander’s ear. Alexander pressed a finger to his lips and looked over.

“Are you coming on to me?” He joked, his phone out on the table. They were waiting for the Uber that James clearly, desperately needed.

Thomas chuckled, his fingers tapping against the table. He was still in his work clothes, but he’d discarded his jacket over his chair and loosened his tie considerably as it got later. Alexander couldn’t stop looking at the spot where he’d rolled his sleeves up, dusted with dark hair.

There was an upbeat rhythm coming from somewhere. Quiet, but easier to hear now that they were one of the only groups to be sitting at a table. Thomas had his other arm thrown around the back of Alexander’s chair, both of them squished in on the one table, James on the other side. Dolley, James’s girlfriend, had occupied the chair next to him no longer than fifteen minutes ago. Only until she’d bid them all farewell with a soft “we all have work tomorrow” and made Thomas promise that James wouldn’t get himself lost on the way home.

Alexander was here mainly because he’d been hungry when Thomas had mentioned loose dinner plans. A catch up that Alexander didn’t want to intrude upon, only, Thomas had been pretty persistent that if Alexander was done with work, they were all up in some laid-back Italian restaurant near Central Park.

“You think that’s how I’d do it?” Thomas chuckled back. Alexander sipped his ice water.

“You think you're smooth,” Alexander teased, his lips tilted up a little in one corner. Apparently, that had just been the mood for most of the night. This slight thing where they sort of teased and flirted with each other. No one seemed to care. Alexander had been feeling weird before he’d arrived. A little off place. Worried about Angelica’s radio silence and the ever-approaching deadline of his pregnancy. None of it seemed to matter the minute Thomas texted him.

“What – “ Thomas started. Paused, took a drink from his beer bottle. His face was very lax, relaxed, his eyes sort of shimmering in the overhead lamps.

“Bullshit,” he settled on. Pushed the bottled away from him with a finger.

“I need to go,” James said from the other side of the table, for maybe the fifth time in the last ten minutes. He looked like he was about to pass out. Alexander could relate. Exhaustion, sitting somewhere at the back of his mind, was tugging.

“Two minutes,” Alexander remarked, glancing down at his phone. “Should we go?” He directed at Thomas, who sighed and shrugged.

There was a bus they could take, Alexander remembered. Bid farewell to James once he was in the car, his phone returned. Not as time efficient as the train, but not by much. The night was clear and not so cold, the air fresh. It was the start of April, now. Central Park was nice at this time. When the weather seemed to sit at a comfortable temperature.

“Can we just walk for a bit?” Alexander asked. Glanced at Thomas, who was fiddling with his. “I need the air.”

He wanted to walk a little, yes, but he also didn’t want to get home just yet. If they could just take their time and talk, that would be nice.

“In the park?” Thomas asked, but he didn’t seem to care for an answer because he started heading in that direction anyway. Paused to stop at the pedestrian lights and cross the road before they made their way in. It was fine like this, if they followed the path in the one direction, there wasn’t any chance they were going to get lost or stray too far from where they needed to go.

They stuck close to each other, shoulders bumping. Few people passed, their conversations light and hard to make out. Alexander shoved his hands into his jacket pocket and sort of slumped in on himself. Let the silence sit, let the lamps blur into a fuzzy ball of light. Listened to the sounds of his own footfalls. He was trying not to think, but it wasn’t an easy feat. Lately, there was just so much to think about.

“I put my leave form in today,” he said, because they hadn’t discussed that yet. It was a thing he could tick off the list, at least.

Thomas hummed. “For when?”

“Mid-June,” he murmured. Stuck his teeth into his bottom lip because he’d learnt enough about Thomas over the last couple of months to expect the look that was thrown his way.

“That close?” Thomas asked, his pace slowing a little. “You don’t want to take a little more time off?”

Actually, Alexander _did_ want to take a little more time off. He didn’t want to just give it the two weeks before he was expected to give birth. There were other things that he had to think about, though. Like his lack of decent insurance and the fact that he wouldn’t be bringing in an income for the next three months.

“You get disability leave, you know that, right? In case you’re worried that – “

“I’m not worried,” Alexander cut him off. There was a bend in the path. A lamp and a bench that looked a little _too_ enticing. He wasn’t afraid the government was suddenly going to stop catering to pregnant-capable people all of a sudden.

Thomas sighed, but Alexander was making it a point not to look at him.

“I just don’t want to sit around and do nothing when I don’t need to be,” he said, sighing himself. “I’m already taking the entire twelve weeks off after.”

He’d already started googling ways that he could occupy himself, to be honest. Three months he’d be home looking after his baby, and it wasn’t so much that he thought it would be easy. It was more along the lines off _surely it couldn’t be that hard._

“Right,” Thomas sighed, his voice doing that fake thing where he was trying to see around someone else’s opinion. Only, it sucked because he wasn’t good at doing that. “But if something happens…”

He tapered off, and Alexander didn’t know where he was going with it, but he turned to Thomas anyway. Gave him a little frown.

“What’s going to happen?” Alexander asked. He didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want to worry about that. Didn’t want to entertain the thought that something could go the way it wasn’t supposed to.

Thomas kind of looked at him, their eyes finding each other before he turned away.

“If it does… Can we compromise on this?” He sounded demure. Like he knew it was a cautious subject.

Alexander almost stopped walking just so he could grumpily say, “I hate when you say that. When do we ever compromise on anything?”

He wasn’t expected Thomas to stop. To grab him by the sleeve of his jacket to slow him down. Alexander almost stumbled. Stopped and turned back to look at Thomas, who had a hard look on his face.

“Are you serious about this?” Thomas said, and he sounded _annoyed_ now. Like, rather than build his way up, he was just _there_. Annoyed at Alexander for some reason.

“What?” Alexander muttered. Thomas’s jaw tensed. The distant lamps cast shadows across his face.

“You know that’s not true, you don’t have to be a dick about it. If you have such a big problem with me not wanting to take time off after, you can just say it, Alexander.”

He sounded mad and exasperated. Alexander stared at him, a slight frown on his face. So, he was a little more transparent than he’d thought. They hadn’t had this conversation too many times, but it was one that Alexander never found any resolution too.

“I’m not doing it,” Thomas continued, because Alexander didn’t have anything new to say. “She’ll be three months old by the time you need to go back to work. She’ll be fine in a nursery, I don’t need to take time off. She’ll be fine by then.”

There were a lot of things that Alexander wanted to say to that. A lot of points that he wanted to make. He’d made the mistake, once, of assuming that Thomas didn’t want to take time off because he was an alpha. Because Alexander was the mother and leaving work for a few weeks to look after his new-born wasn’t an _alpha’s_ job.

Alexander had seen Thomas made before, but never like that, never that hurt.

So, he had nothing new to say, and he knew that. He knew that he wasn’t going to change Thomas’s mind. Knew that he wasn’t going to be able to understand where Thomas was coming from.

But it still felt awful to think about.

“Okay,” he muttered, and shrugged a shoulder, placating. He didn’t know what else there was to say, now. His gaze found the path again, and he turned his back and started walking.

Thomas sighed behind him, and Alexander had to wonder what he was thinking. Footfalls behind him, until Thomas was in step next to him again, and it was clear that they were both happy to let the silence sit for a little while. Alexander stayed quiet, all of his energy gone. Thought about his appointment in a week’s time. About seeing his third-trimester baby and getting to hear her heartbeat.

When the silence was broken, though, it was by Thomas. Voice so low that Alexander barely caught it.

“I think I’m only just starting to realise that we’ve only got a few months left,” he said, and it ended kind of abruptly. Like he had more so say but he didn’t know how. Alexander turned to look at him.

“It kind of freaks me out,” Thomas admitted. Ran a hand through the front of his hair. Alexander found himself a little shocked at that statement.

“It does?” He asked. Paused for barely a second before he realised how rude that sounded.

“Me too,” he said, almost breathless with the truth of it. “Sometimes it feels like too much.” There was peace in admitting that. That he wasn’t alone in that.

 Thomas turned to give him a little smile, but Alexander only caught it out of his peripherals. He was too busy staring ahead of him. The line of trees and –

“Oh,” Alexander stuttered, a thought coming to him. His pace slowed, Thomas slowing with him.

“Okay?” He asked. Alexander shrugged his backpack off his shoulders and pulled it around. Held it awkwardly so that he could unzip it and search for something. There was no point in waiting, he supposed.

“I need to give this to you,” Alexander said, fingers grasping gently at the book. Pulled it from his backpack and held it out. Let Thomas take it from him. “I don’t know when your birthday is, but Martha said it was coming up.”

He felt like he had more to say. An explanation of some kind. He’d spent a good deal of time wondering what he was supposed to do with it. Where he wanted to put it.

“The Wonderful Wizard of Oz,” Thomas read out, holding it gingerly in his hands, a question in his tone. It was thick, clearly second hand. The book that Alexander had picked up on the weekend at the thrift store.

Alexander reached out and fingered the corner of the cover. The binding was purple, the fact that it was a pop-up book was evident in the thickness of the pages. “It’s dumb, but I thought you might like it. I used to own a copy when I came to New York.”

The thing about this book, the reason why it had been so important to Alexander as a child, was that it was the most intricately designed book he’d ever owned. When Thomas opened to the first page, a large, dark mass of thick paper popped up from the middle of the book. It was the cyclone, and it twisted each way depending on how fast you open and closed the covers. It was detailed and delicate, and it _glittered_. Mostly with emerald, but there were splashes of colour that turned it into one of those books you couldn’t take your eyes off when it was open.

“It was very important to me,” he explained delicately, eyes on the book. Reached a hand out to run a finger along the page. There was something unsettling about explaining this to someone else. “I didn’t have a lot, but I had this. Whenever I read it, I kind of felt like I was in it.”

Thomas was sort of holding it out. Open in both palms, so it was easy for Alexander to flick to a few pages. The castle again, glittering emerald. Alexander couldn’t take his eyes off it. “If you put these on,” Alexander explained, finger running over the little pocket with the glasses in it, “there’s a secret message on the page.”

Thomas laughed at that. A quiet thing, like a chuckle. It made Alexander look at him.

“This is for my birthday?” Thomas asked, and he was smiling. _Really_ smiling. Like he’d just been gifted with something closer to a treasure. Alexander’s chest clenched. “A children’s book?”

Alexander flushed a little. Thomas’s tone wasn’t mean. It was closer to inquisitive, but Alexander wondered whether he should’ve been embarrassed.

“I mainly work with kids,” he said, eyes back down on the page. Watched Thomas flick to the end. The hot air balloon, with Dorothy and her friends waving to the wizard. “It’s how my mind works.”

Thomas laughed again, but it was a little deeper. He closed the book gingerly, still held in both hands. They were still standing there. In the middle of the path, the light from the lamps barely touching them.

“Thank you,” Thomas said in a tone that sounded entirely sincere. Like it actually meant something to him. “For sharing this.”

Alexander stared at him. Flushed a little more, pulse picking up just a little. Thomas returned his gaze, smiling softly. Alexander wondered what that meant. Whether Thomas was understanding what Alexander was saying.   

“I don’t know why I did,” he said, chuckling softly, entirely nervous. The air felt like static, like electricity. Alexander wondered if he was wearing his nerves on his skin, whether it was easy to see. He wasn’t quite sure whether Thomas could see it, could see just how anxious it made him. This book, it had been apart of his heart for a very long time. Alexander felt like he wasn’t giving that part of himself away.

Thomas dropped his gaze. Turned it to the book, pressed a hand over it. Alexander’s eyes followed the lines of his fingers, the movements. Admired how soft Thomas looked in the light, how attractive. Felt every part of his desire for Thomas at that moment.

He almost stepped back the moment Thomas dropped his arm. Was almost startled by the movement. It happened very quickly. Thomas held it in one hand, down by his side. Reached the other one out towards Alexander.

“I do,” he said, and Alexander didn’t have time to really think, to understand. Not until Thomas was already pulling him in, was already kissing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not edited. Pretend it's Friday and I don't have three broken ribs. Peace out.
> 
> (Thank you for the support. I wish I could send a million hearts to you all!! It really does mean a lot!)


	18. Chapter 18

The rest of the trip home was quiet.

They took the train anyway. So, Alexander sat by the window with his fingers tapping against his metro card, eyes glazed. The fingers of his other hand were otherwise preoccupied. Despite the lack of conversation that had gone on, Thomas seemed insistent on sticking close. Had taken Alexander’s hand after his awkward little “okay” in the park, after he’d pressed that tiny little kiss to Alexander’s lips, and refused to let go. Took his seat next to Alexander, pressed the tips of their fingers together, stayed quiet, stayed close. Warm where their shoulder’s touched, where Alexander kept bumping his knee into Thomas’s, just because he wanted to, because he felt like he could.

Now Alexander was just tired. Really tired. Not even “I don’t know why that just happened” tired, or “I need to escape I can’t be here” tired. He just wanted to curl in on himself, lean his head down on Thomas’s shoulder, and sleep for a good eight hours at least. The hand against his, the way Thomas touched him, was soothing. Light, their fingers brushing together. Thomas wasn’t holding his hand entirely, their fingers unlatched. He was just resting it on both of his own. Enough that he could run his thumbs over Alexander’s open palm. Enough that he could touch, just softly. It was an almost unsettling sort of soft. Like they’d never touched like that, not entirely.

He was glad that Thomas was paying more attention to where they were going because Alexander barely was. Threaded their fingers together and tugged a little, reaching for Alexander’s attention. They got off the train, up the stairs, through the ticket gates. In the few seconds that they weren’t touching, Alexander almost felt relieved. Then they were in step, on the street, and Alexander had to hold on tight when Thomas took his hand again. Had nowhere else to go. Felt like a cornered animal.

This casual intimacy thing was starting to kill him.

Did people do this? Normal people that weren’t your siblings or that you didn’t know for a few good years. Was this an _alpha_ thing? This hand-holding, and the standing close to each other, and the little looks they always gave each other, the unnecessary eye contact.

Because, there were many great things that Alexander was willing to believe, whether he was considered a gullible person or not. But this incessant thought that maybe Thomas was trying to convey something other than a quiet, innocent relationship?

Well.

Alexander had trust issues a million miles long. He couldn’t even trust _himself_ , most times.  

There was something infuriatingly easy about throwing that out of the nearest window for Thomas.

There’d been that slip second after Thomas had pulled away from him in the park. They’d shared the same breath, and what Alexander didn’t say was _I think about you sometimes, mostly when I shouldn’t. When I’m sitting at my desk, when I get off of work, when you text me to tell me you’re going to be home late, when I can’t sleep. I think about pressing my lips to your knuckles and listening to you talk. I think about being something incredibly valuable and important to you._

But the moment had passed. Thomas pulled further away, a slip of a smile on his lips, and Alexander had taken a breath and sucked all of that back in.

What he didn’t say was _I don’t think about how I feel about you, I don’t let myself dream, because it scares me, to want someone so entirely._

Whatever it was that made Thomas feel the need to stick close, to think that they could just kiss and forget about it, to touch him for no reason, Alexander didn’t want it. He didn’t want it anymore.

On the stairs up to their building, Thomas let him go to fish his keys out of his bag, and Alexander shoved both hands in his pockets. Hunches his shoulders, yawned. Trailed after Thomas into the building, into the elevator, eyes downcast. He thought of bed, and work tomorrow, and the visit to the doctor. His high blood pressure, his two-pound baby girl.

He’d usually shed his jacket into the closest on the way in, but when Thomas opened the door and let him in first, Alexander didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want to stand around. He slipped his backpack off his shoulders and held it by the strap on his way in. Didn’t bother with the lights, the curtains were still open.

“Don’t forget the appointment tomorrow,” he reminded, his shoes thumping against the floorboards.

“ _Alex_ ,” Thomas said, a hand latching onto Alexander’s forearm.

It was jolting; enough that Alexander accidentally dropped his bag. Snapped his gaze around to Thomas, a frown forming.

In the half-light, mainly from the streetlamps down in the street, Alexander only caught half of Thomas’s expression. The drawn in brows, the corner of his mouth that was twisted up, the glint in his eyes that made him look desperate. He was wearing an expression that made him look like he was exasperated.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he said, quiet, his fingers around Alexander’s arm tight. Absolute resolution in his tone.

Alexander had to pause. Almost wilted. Something inside him, inside his stomach, _burned_. A feeling he’d never encountered before.

“Okay,” he said, and was glad that his voice came out so steady. He had a mind to ask what that meant, but it wasn’t hard to tell. He felt himself tipping into damage control, trying to contain. _He doesn’t want to be around you anymore_ , the bonfire in his stomach told him. Made his insides ache.

“I… What, then?” He asked, quiet.

Thomas looked at him. Looked, then looked, and looked a little more. Alexander felt like he had nothing to say. His chest started to feel empty, amplified by the knowledge that what he was feeling was _hurt_.

Thomas shifted. Alexander felt off-balance. Turned his eyes down when Thomas stepped uncomfortably close. Moved his hand so that, instead of a vice around Alexander's arm, he had his fingers drawn tight around Alexander’s own. Brought both their hands up between them.

If he leaned in, if he did anything else, Alexander was going to slap him.

“Listen to me,” was what he said. It made Alexander frown harder.

“You’re not even saying anything,” he replied, his tone weaker. He was waiting for his anger to make an appearance. Waiting for it to turn into his defence mechanism. It was supposed to protect him. “You want me to leave?” he asked, downcast. Thought that maybe the reason why he couldn’t find his anger was that this hurt a little too much.

Alexander still couldn’t look at him. He didn’t know what expression Thomas was wearing, but Thomas sighed slowly. Drew Alexander’s hand to his chest, their fingers still clasped together, although Alexander refused to acknowledge it.

“No, Alexander,” Thomas said, and his voice was a little breathy, a little exasperated. “Why would I want you to leave?”

Alexander didn’t care for that question. He looked up, frowning hard so that Thomas wouldn’t see past that. “Then what don’t you want to do anymore? The baby?”

God, if Thomas said yes… What would he even do? How would Alexander even cope? Would he be able to do that? What did that mean? Alexander didn’t want to do this alone. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t be able to.

Thomas, to Alexander’s surprise, dropped his hand. Brought bother of his palms up, laid then over Alexander’s face.

This,” he sighed softly. Made Alexander look at him. “I want to stop pretending like there isn’t something between us. I want you,” he said, conviction in his voice. “I want to _be_ with you, Alexander.”

And then he stopped, and said nothing more. Looked at Alexander again, his gaze intense.

Alexander could only frown, his pulse hitching. He repeated that in his head. Said it back to himself a few times, just to make sure. Over and over and over, until the silence between them turned weird, and the expression on Thomas’s face started to turn into something else.

Oh.

“Are you sure?” Alexander asked, and then, “what?” Had to know. Despite Thomas’s clear words, he had to _know_.

Thomas seemed to find that funny, though, because he let out a little breath of a laugh. Used the leverage he had on Alexander’s face to draw them closer together. Only close enough that he bumped into Alexander’s stomach.

“I’m sure,” he said, and he sounded sure. Said, “Don’t look at me like that, I’m being honest.”

Oh.

That was… Well. Relieving. Before anything else, it was relieving. Despite the trust issues, his doubtful nature, something deep and exhilarating touched him as soon as Thomas said it.

“I,” he started. Stumbled, closed his mouth for a second. Had to think. For lack of anything else to say, said “okay.”

Thomas _wanted_ him. Thomas wanted to – what? Be in a relationship with him? He wanted them to date? Alexander would never have thought that. That that was what Thomas was aiming for.

Thomas stood quiet, his expression lax. Waiting, maybe?

In the silence, Thomas mumbled quietly, “tell me what you’re thinking. Please?” A look crossed his face. “You’re so hard to read sometimes, Alexander. It’s frustrating. Stop hiding from me.”

God.

Alexander felt himself crack open. Felt himself start to bleed. His breath picked up. He felt like he was shedding every layer he’d put up.

God. How’d he dig himself into this? How did this happen?

“I don’t talk about how I feel,” he said hurriedly, all in one breathe. “I don’t even think about. I hate letting other people in. I want you too.”

He said it before he could stop himself, and that familiar feeling hit him, then. Like a bucket of ice-water thrown right over his head. Like some giant mishap that he’d just talked his way into.

This was why Alexander didn’t do this. This was why he didn’t think about it. Like he pretended that his feelings for Thomas were all innocent and non-romantic. Because he had problems. He couldn’t _talk_ about them. He could crush on someone, he would want them, but this was different. This intense feeling he had for Thomas. He didn’t know how to define that. He didn’t know where it came from.

“I don’t know what to do with it,” he said, his throat feeling itchy. Cotton. There was cotton stuck in his throat, now.

Thomas’s face was lax. No frown, no displeased twist in his lips. In the cold light, he looked like he was trying to _find_ something.

“With what?”

Alexander bit his lip. Stared down at the patch of skin at the base of Thomas’s neck. Where he’d unbuttoned his shirt and loosened his tie.

“How much I want to be with you.”

And that was it. Those words. Admitting that. It felt weak. It made him feel weak.

When Thomas kissed him again, every part of it was different, and every part of it felt _right_. He leaned down, pressed his lips over Alexander’s, breathed in softly. A slight touch, just the two of them breathing into each other, like he’d done in the park. Instinct for Alexander to close his eyes, to lean in, only – different. So, so different. His heart was thumping in his chest.

Thomas parted his lips, pressed into him. Slowly, softly, completely unhurried. Alexander scrunched his hands into the material of his jacket and held on tight. Felt himself bursting as he pressed back. Tilted his head a little, leaned in. Could feel it, the fluttering thing in his chest. A breath catching in his throat when a hand went to the back of Alexander’s neck. Enough to pull him in, to deepen everything. The sound of their lips parting under one another, soft and wet.

Relief.

That’s what it was. Was just about ready to shake out of his own skin, but he was relieved. He was – How could he describe it? What word could he find? Use here? To describe how good this felt. Thomas kissed him softly, and then a little more. Not frantic, but it twisted into something a little faster, and Alexander knew this was different. That they didn’t really kiss like this, not really.

It was with a wet sound when Thomas pulled back. Alexander almost chased it, his mind racing. Wanted to keep doing that because of how much it felt good. He didn’t go far. Leaned his head down on Alexander’s, their noses bumping into each other.

“You have to tell me what you’re thinking,” Thomas said, and Alexander _shuddered_ at the way his voice came out. Rasping, quiet. “I can’t do this unless I know how you feel. You have to tell me.”

And then he leaned in again. Pressed another, smaller, kiss to Alexander’s lips. Pulled back enough that there were only a few millimetres between them.

“Okay,” Alexander said, eyes still closed, basking. Brought his hand up, took Thomas by the collar of his shirt tightly, other hand coming up to lay on the one that Thomas had on Alexander’s cheek. “Okay. Okay,” he repeated, and wasn’t quite sure whether he meant it. Not entirely, maybe. He could feel the fear creeping over. This feeling that Thomas was asking him to do something he never did. That he never had to do. That he didn’t know _how_ to do.

He tightened his grasp. Pulled at Thomas, brought their lips back together. Kissed him a little harder, a little more frantic. Didn’t know what to do with the amount of desire that went into it.

* * *

 

 Eliza sounded almost frantic on the phone. Her voice came out loud and harried.

“Betsey, slow down,” Alexander muttered, mug in hand, kettle boiling. Had a visitation appointment in less than half an hour.

She was standing on the street, maybe. The sound of cars in the background, human traffic. “She won’t talk to me,” she said, annoyed. She’d opened with “something’s wrong with Angelica”.

“Why?” He asked, tapping his foot against the linoleum in their tiny office kitchen.

“I don’t know! That’s what I’m calling for.” Something loud passed in the background. Alexander leaned back against the counter.

“Betsey, she’s fine. Relax,” he said, eyes on the wall clock.

Eliza made an aggravated sound on the other end. “You’re not taking me seriously,” she huffed.

True. He was a little distracted. Couldn’t be helped.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he replied, his voice hitching into a question.

“Has she been talking to you?” Eliza asked, and Alexander couldn’t help but sigh. Thought, briefly, of all five of his unanswered messages.

“No,” he said, then a little more hesitantly, “she’s mad at me, so…”

Eliza paused on the other end. Alexander listened the kettle boil louder and louder.

“About what?” She asked, almost breathless. Alexander pressed a hand to his stomach when he felt a bump. A big one, like his little girl was in there practising gymnastics.

“I don’t know,” he muttered, exasperated. “The baby. I told her I wasn’t finding it super easy. She got mad.”

“And you thought that was a good idea,” Eliza replied, and Alexander was surprised at the way her tone changed. Accusatory, like she was blaming him for something. Alexander frowned, annoyed.

“I got to go. Talk later,” he said, then pulled the phone from his ear and ended the call. Stared at the wall clock.

When he got back to his desk, tea in hand, he sent her a message that read _don’t make me feel guilty for shit I don’t need to feel guilty for._

* * *

 

 Sharayah popped her head into his office around a quarter to a five, a big smile on her face. Alexander was in the middle of writing an email.

“Hey,” she called, prompting him to look up, a smile on her face. “Are you busy?”

Alexander returned her smile. She had on a cobalt blue coat that matched the pins in her hair. Something pointed and pink was being held by her side.

“Not really. Okay?”

She stepped around the doorframe, smiling wider. Held the pink thing a little more out of sight. “Yup,” she said mischievously. “You have to come with me, now.”

Alexander chuckled. “Do I?” He replied. Knew it wasn’t something serious, not with the smile that was on her face.

“Yeah,” she said. Brought her hand out from behind her back. “And you have to put this on.”

It was a party hat. Pink, glittery. Inside of it was another one, a blue one, that Sharayah pulled out to put on her own head. Alexander had to laugh.

“Why? It’s someone’s birthday?” He asked. Stood from his desk and took the hat from her. Pulled the string under his jaw.

Sharayah pulled gently at his sleeve, prompting him to follow her. “Something like that,” she said excitedly.

Alexander found himself amused. Followed her out of his own office and down the hall. Passed a few closed doors, a few that were open, people working. He liked Sharayah. There were only a few of his co-workers that he liked; she was definitely one of them.

Into another office, a few down from his. Carlos’s office, then. Let himself be let inside. Had to chuckle once he was in there.

 He had no knowledge of who’s birthday it was, but apparently, everyone was wearing party hats for it. Carlos was there, his own hat a glittering green, sitting back in his office chair in front of his desk. Susan, his boss, who was smiling in her own chair. Rose, one of the ladies that was much older than everyone else, sat in one of the armchairs next to Brett, one of the guys that Alexander had brief but frequent conversations with in the kitchen. There was a conversation going, Brett talking loudly, Carlos trying to cut in, a grin on his face. It stopped when Sharayah waved her hands.

“We can get started now,” she said. Gestured for Alexander to sit down.

“Whose birthday is it?” Alexander asked, amused. Looked at everyone in their hats, the brightly coloured frosted cake, the paper plates. A stack of boxes on the desk, little cartoon pictures, a few tins of – oh.

“My birthday’s in January,” he said. Had to laugh. On Carlos’ desk, sitting next to a few packets of some sort of gel, was baby formula.

“This isn’t for your birthday,” Susan said. Crossed her arms and gave him a smile.

“Carlos said you didn’t have a baby shower,” Sharayah cut in.

“Which is appalling,” Carlos remarked, swinging a little on his chair. Alexander had to stare for a few seconds, a little speechless.

“So, we’re throwing one for you,” Sharayah said when Alexander didn’t say anything. He flushed a little, grinning. Oh god, he loved his co-workers.

“Whose idea was this?” He asked. Stared over at the cake because it certainly didn’t look store bought. Sharayah clapped her hands together.

“Moi,” she said proudly, only for Carlos to stick a foot out and jab her in the calf with it.

“No, it wasn’t,” he huffed, a playful look on his face. Sharayah scrunched her face up at him.

“Ah, yeah, it was,” she said huffily, clearly teasing. “I planned everything.”

Alexander watched Carlos sit up straight, ready to retort. Alexander smiled over at Rose.

“Who made the cake?” He asked, just as Carlos said, “I told you to.”

Rose put her hand lovingly on Brett’s arm, who beamed. “This lovely gentleman,” she said, her voice soft. “We all wanted to do something for you.”

Alexander threw a smile over to Brett. Half listened to Sharayah throw some quip back at Carlos. “Thanks, mate,” he said, grateful. Brett shrugged, quiet.

“Alex has to cut the cake,” Sharayah insisted, right before Susan piped in with “I’m giving you all ten minutes. You’re still on the clock.”

“This is really cute,” Alexander laughed. Got up from his chair and stood at the edge of the desk.

“I can’t believe you didn’t already have one,” Carlos threw at him. Sharayah handed him a plastic knife. The cake was multi-coloured and round.

“It’s got Nutella in it,” Sharayah supplied.

“I don’t know really know how,” Alexander muttered honestly. Cut a line through the cake.

Susan scoffed. “You just _do_ , Alexander. You tell people that you’re having a baby shower, and they bring presents.” Her tone was teasing, which made Alexander chuckle. He liked his boss a lot, but they’d never had the sort of conversations that enabled them to joke with each other.

Alexander cut the cake into little slices. Set a few pieces on a few plates, gave them out while Carlos hummed ‘Happy Birthday’ and Rose laughed. Felt elated at such a nice, cute surprise.

Susan didn’t give them a whole lot of time. They had work to do, after all, but she let him talk about his little girl while they all ate. Let him look through the small pile of presents, some of them wrapped, some of them not. Brett supplied a big canvas bag to put them in. Clapped a hand against his shoulder and muttered, “it’s late, but congrats”. Rose carried it back to his office. He thanked them with flushed cheeks, almost feeling nauseated by the four pieces that he’d had.

 Susan put a hand on his shoulder as she passed, and Alexander felt nothing but joy that he worked with these people.

* * *

 

 Syalla looked over at the machine, the brace around his arm inflated to a point that it almost hurt. Gave him a smile while she wrote down a few numbers.

“Much better,” she called, pleased. The machine clicked, and Alexander hummed. “Blood pressure is good, nothing’s come back in the sample that you gave me. Blood work is good, but I’m going to take another.”

The brace around his arm deflated slowly. She unattached it, let it fall back into its little basket. On the chair to the other side of him, Thomas gave his hand a little squeeze.

“Now that you’re in your last trimester, we’re going to be doing this more than usual,” she told them, wheeling the machine away. Started pulling at drawers, placing little vials on a trolley.

“The blood samples?” Alexander asked, nervous. He was always nervous, even if he knew he didn’t need to be. Something about his appointments becoming a little more frequent. Like there was more of a chance that something could go wrong.

She turned to them, a needle in hand. Put it down on the tray and wheeled it over. Alexander instinctively started rolling up his sleeve.

“All of it,” she confirmed. Leaned over to run a clean wipe over the crook in his elbow, gloves on. Started pressing into his skin with her thumbs. “Blood samples, glucose, urine. Standard stuff, nothing to worry about it. It’s always good to triple check things.”

“Does anything need to change?” Thomas asked while Alexander stared down at the desk, grimacing at the needle she pinched into his arm. The book he’d bought months ago had a chapter for the third trimester, but Alexander hadn’t read it yet.

“Not particularly,” Syalla answered, her brow pinched in concertation. Alexander glanced at the vial of blood that she set on the tray when she was done. Unclipped the band around his arm. “Unfortunately, you’ll start feeling the same effects as you did during your first trimester. Fatigue and whatnot. I’ll give you a few sheets on relieving any pains you might get, especially when your ankles start swelling.” She grinned. Patched him up with a little band-aid. Placed everything back in place.

After, she took them to the other room again. The one that they were both so familiar with, now. Turned and fiddled with the sonogram machine while Alexander got situated on his back, his shirt pulled up over his bump. Thomas took his place beside the bed, took hold of Alexander’s hand again.

The gel barely felt cold anymore, Alexander was just used to it. Syalla took her seat, transducer in hand. Muttered, “here we go,” quietly, before she pressed it to his stomach.

A blur of movement jumped up on the screen, familiar. Took a bit of manoeuvring until they both got a clear image. Not so little anymore. Big enough that they could make out her fingers and toes. Could see the line of her nose, the profile of her face. At this age, Alexander read that her eyelashes were formed. That she could blink. She looked much bigger, her body mass having increased.

“How are her movements?” Syalla asked conversationally, fiddling with the little keyboard on the machine. No doubt measuring and taking pictures.

“She moves a lot in the afternoon and evening,” he replied, eyes glued to the screen, surprised she wasn’t moving now. “Not really during the night.”

Syalla hummed. “That’s good then. Can’t promise that won’t change,” she chuckled. “Nothing out of the ordinary?”

Alexander shook his head even though she couldn’t see it. “No. She pretty much sticks to her schedule.” The fake contractions, though. They were another story. Sometimes they were so insistent that Alexander woke up during the night.

“Shall I print a picture?” She asked, looking back. Alexander nodded.

He took his time righting himself once she was done. It never took long, the ultrasound. Apparently, his little baby was doing very well. Her heart rate was perfect, she was growing just the way she needed to be. Thomas helped him push himself up. He swung his legs over the side, fixed his shirt, twisted his face up as he got down from the exam table.

“Have we picked a hospital, yet?” Syalla asked, pencilling in their next appointment on a card. Alexander fiddled with the zipper of his jacket.

“Uh, not yet,” Thomas answered with a sigh. Syalla looked up.

“I don’t mean to rush, but I’m going to need that within the next three weeks or so. So that we can finalise things.” She handed the card over to Alexander, who already had his backpack on.

He shoved it into his pocket. Both of them thanked her before they left, Alexander grimacing as he pulled the canvas bag along. The woman behind the reception desk gave them a smile and a wave.

“Can we just take an Uber?” Alexander asked, weighed down. He’d already had to lug the thing through the train, he didn’t want to do it again.

“What is that?” Thomas asked, phone in hand. Gestured down to the bag that Alexander let fall at his feet. Alexander rubbed at a temple.

“Ah, gifts,” he said vaguely. Chuckled at Thomas’s questioning look. “My co-workers threw me a baby shower.”

The look that crossed Thomas’s face made Alexander grin.

“No, they didn’t,” he said, disbelief in his tone. Gave Alexander a deadpan look.

“No, they did,” Alexander confirmed. “With party hats and cake.”

That made Thomas scoff. Shoved his phone into his pocket and bumped his shoulder lightly against Alexander’s.

“I have pictures,” Alexander remarked. Pulled his phone from his pocket. Found the message from Sharayah with the attachment. Pulled up the first one. There was only three, taken a few seconds after each other. In this one, they were all huddled around the cake, squeezed together because Sharayah had short arms. She’d insisted on the picture; refused to let anyone leave until they had one.

Thomas took the phone from him, gave it a cursory once-over. Alexander leaned over and pointed to Susan, who looked a little nonplussed.

“That’s my boss,” he explained. Thomas threw him a look that made Alexander laugh.

“She looks thrilled,” he joked. Handed the phone back to Alexander. “As if we don’t have everything we need anyway.”

Alexander shoved his phone back into his pocket and turned his head up. “It was nice, though,” he muttered, a little indignant. How nice it felt to know that he worked with people who considered him friends enough to throw a little party. At _work_ , of all places.

Once they’d made it home Alexander, quiet for the most part, dumped the bag into the nursery without turning on the lights. Wandered into his own room to get dressed. There was a text back from Eliza that he hadn’t had the heart to look at. Wasn’t sure whether it was going to be her telling him not to be so selfish, so he’d made the decision that he really didn’t want to look at it until he was ready.

It had him stressed, though. All this silence from Angelica.

It happened so often now, as Alexander was pulling a soft hoodie over his head, that when there was another kick, it hardly bothered him. Just his little girl getting in her daily exercise. He put a hand over his stomach, sat down on the bed while he changed into a worn pair of jeans. Tied his hair up so that it was out of his face. He was due for a haircut, he’d need to get that sorted soon.

“Martha still wants an answer,” Thomas called from the living room. Alexander sighed, set his clothes away. Wandered back out into the kitchen for some water.

“I don’t know if I want to sit there and watch you guys get drunk,” he muttered; their conversation from that morning. Opened the fridge for the filtered jug and set it out onto the counter. Gave the contents of the fridge a once-over. “We need to go grocery shopping,” he muttered, hand rubbing at his stomach while she kicked again.

“We don’t _just_ get drunk,” Thomas murmured, sounding distracted. When Alexander glanced over, he was sitting at the table, still dressed. Legs stretched out to the side, phone in hand. Had a few strands of wiry hair wrapped around a finger. Alexander smiled quietly.

“She says she’s willing to change a few things if you come.”

“Why is she in charge, though? It’s your birthday,” Alexander commented, pulling a glass from the cupboard. Set it down and pulled a face, his insides feeling especially squished. Sometimes she moved so vigorously that Alexander felt panicked. He puffed out a breath, his brows drawn together. Wandered out to where Thomas was sitting.

“If I was in charge, nothing would ever happen. I don’t want to celebrate that I nearly thirty,” he muttered in the same few seconds that Alexander grasped at one of his wrists. Pulled a hand from his phone and placed it flat on the top of his stomach, where he felt her move and kick the most. Thomas looked up.

“Is she – “ he started, then stopped, his expression shifting into surprise.

Alexander couldn’t help his grin. “You can feel her?” He asked. Pressed Thomas’s hand in harder, where his little girl felt like she was dancing.

Thomas jolted. Dropped his phone down on the table, brought his other hand up to sit it on Alexander’s stomach as well, eyes wide.

“Oh,” he murmured, almost breathless. Alexander bit his lip. Placed both his hands over Thomas’s. Felt something nice unfurl in his chest.

“That’s – “ Thomas cut himself off. A few seconds passed before he moved. Shifted his hands further down Alexander’s stomach. Sort of pulled him closer. Enough that Thomas could lean forward, lean his head down on Alexander’s bump, over where she was kicking. Sat there, quiet. Alexander grinned, sighed, let him move how he wanted. Stayed quiet while we watched Thomas close his eyes and relax against him.

Her kicking sort of came in waves, at this point. She’d kick a certain about of times an hour or so, the rhythm different each time, but there was always a time when she’d kick non-stop for a good couple of minutes. Usually, liked to stagger all of her jumping exercises over a few hours.

Alexander stilled, a satisfied little smile over his mouth. Moved a hand down, placed it gingerly at the base of Thomas’s neck. Let it rest there carefully, his fingers feeling good where they touched the warm skin at Thomas’s hairline. They hadn’t talked since last night. Not about this, or anything else. He’d spent a good portion of the morning wondering what had changed now. Whether they were dating. Whether they both needed to explicitly say it before it was true. Was Alexander allowed to touch him, now?

Thomas shifted his head. Pressed a kiss over Alexander's stomach, a secret little smile on his mouth. Alexander had the good sense to be embarrassed, to think that maybe he’d been thinking out loud. Right before Thomas prompted Alexander to shift back a little. Enough that he could stand. Enough that he could bring his hands up over Alexander’s face, pull him in, kiss him.

That same kiss as last night. Not frantic, not hurried. Soft, languid, full of charged energy and longing. Enough that Alexander had to sigh breathlessly. Had to hold on tight and pour himself into it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm over the slow burn bs now. Welcome! The comments for that last chapter had me in tears most of the time. I appreciate it!!
> 
> Firstly, I will say that I've been thinking about changing the day I update. Fridays can be weirdly busy for me, and I feel like I should pick a day where I can defs update, or stop saying that I'll update on Fridays altogether. I don't know. Tell me what to do.
> 
> Secondly, although the general outline of the plot has been down since day one, I feel like I'm going to need to change the number of chapters again. Maybe I should just leave it open-ended...
> 
> Thank you for reading!! <3


	19. Chapter 19

“It has a hot tub,” Thomas said, and Alexander had to rub a hand over his tired face. This wasn’t how he wanted to spend his Saturday morning. Sitting at the table while Thomas hovered over him, an info sheet printed out in front of them about one of the hospitals they were deciding from.

“What… Is that going to do?” He was almost appalled at his own lack of knowledge on the subject of childbirth. Especially now that he was considering the fact that Thomas seemed to know more about it than either of them.

Which was almost insulting.

“It helps with the pain. Are you even thinking of that? Or are you just thinking about the cost?”

Alexander flushed. Dug his teeth into his bottom lip, suddenly embarrassed. It _was_ about the cost. He was thinking about how he didn’t want to pay thousands of dollars just to spend a few hours in a hot tub. He didn’t think any of that was worth it. Childbirth centres were cheaper, some of them were certainly nicer. Thomas seemed stuck on the hospital thing, with the private room and the hot tub, and the fact that it had been the one hospital Syalla had mentioned in passing as being “nice.”

“Nesting tendency’s,” Thomas threw out, and Alexander almost rolled his eyes. Thomas wouldn’t see it; he was standing behind Alexander’s chair so that they could both see the computer, his hands on the back of it. The kettle was boiling, something sizzling on the stove.

“Whatever. It can’t be that bad,” Alexander remarked, flippant. Wanted to dismiss the nesting thing altogether. Wanted it to not be true. It was well known that nesting was a pregnancy thing. That it was normal to want to prepare everything proper right before the baby came.

But, as he’d learnt through life, pregnant omega’s urges to nest were closer to the literal sense. Which was to say that Alexander, much like the days leading up to his heat, was expecting it to be a little more frantic. A little less making sure the crib was made, the clothes put away, and a little more carving out a spot on his bed where he could bury his little new-born and hold her.

He’d read that it was one of the reasons why home births were common amongst omega’s. Most preferred to spend labour building a nest with items that held specific scents. It was one of the reason’s why some hospitals – expensive ones – invested in specific maternal wards for omega’s. A little homier, a little bigger, a bed that would ultimately be nicer to build a nest in. Where it felt more comfortable to be.

Alexander had the money, he had the savings. He just wasn’t sure whether his nesting tendencies were going to be _that_ bad.

“You don’t know, though. What’s it like when you’re in heat?” Thomas asked, and Alexander almost wanted to elbow him at such a personal question.

Instead, he shrugged. Laid his head on his palm and sagged down into his chair. It was nine in the morning. He’d barely been out of bed before Thomas started shoving everything in his face; he wanted to eat.

“Alexander…” Thomas sighed, exasperation creeping into his voice. Again. “Why does this have to be such a hard thing?”

His tone was kind of soft, like he wasn’t trying to be rude. Something carved itself into Alexander’s chest anyway.

“Because you’re set on this one fucking hospital,” Alexander muttered. Flicked through a few tabs on his website. A hand, gentle, landed on his shoulder, a thumb brushing along the back of his neck, over a scent gland. It sat there for barely a few seconds before it was gone, the floorboards creaking slightly as Thomas disappeared back into the kitchen.

Alexander slumped further down, tired. Shut the lid of his laptop closed out of frustration. Stared down at the numbers he’d written himself. Felt hazy as he listened to the clatter coming from the kitchen.

Thomas came back out with a mug and a plate, steam rising from the top of it. Set it down next to Alexander, next to the laptop. “I’m going to get some groceries, you need anything?” He asked, as Alexander stared down at the plate of food next to him. It was a fluffy omelette, cheese sprinkled over the top, a few slices of tomatoes next to it.

“Ah, no,” Alexander replied as Thomas came back out. Set down a knife and a fork.

“Here,” he said, sliding the cutlery towards Alexander, mind obviously elsewhere. Placed another fleeting hand against the back of Alexander’s neck before he disappeared down the hall.

The mug was tea, half full. Alexander eyed the set up warily, listening to Thomas open the closet and put on his shoes.

“Text me if you think of something,” he called, and Alexander bit his lip as the door closed, the apartment falling silent. Stared down at the table with the realisation that it was a Saturday and Thomas had made him breakfast. Tea, an omelette. Thomas had made him _breakfast_.

A smile forced its way to his lips. Tiny, secret. Pushed the laptop away, dragged the plate closer with a finger, breathed the smell in deeply. Wrapped his hand around his warm mug. Smothered his smile into the rim, something small blooming in his chest.

Alexander couldn’t quite believe this was a thing.

This and others.

Little things that Thomas did. Little things that probably had no real meaning. Maybe he just knew that he could do it now. Like the way he liked to take Alexander’s hand, even if they were just sitting at the table. Like a subtle little touch. Like Thursday evening when they’d been eating, Alexander talking, and Thomas had pushed his empty plate away, leaned his hand over, and touched his fingers to Alexander’s knuckles. A hand against the nape of his neck, a palm over his back, just sitting there.

Alexander had half a mind to believe that maybe Thomas had always done that. Had always touched him like that, except maybe Alexander had never noticed it because he’d never thought it was something _to_ notice.

But, over the past few days since their talk, subtly, slowly, things felt different. Maybe it was all in his head, maybe it was all just mental. Like Alexander getting flustered whenever Thomas looked at him, because he knew there was an attraction there. Like this charged thing that sat between them where Alexander _wanted_ to but didn’t know if he could.

Alexander sighed. Picked up his fork, carved a slice off and stuck it to the end. Watched the steam curl into the air. Chewed solely, eyes glassy, far away. Took a second to savour how good the taste was before he stood quickly. Fetched his phone from the kitchen, sat back down.

One new message from an unknown number.

Alexander sighed. Just as quickly, set the phone down. The mood changing. Frowned, picked at his food. He’d sent a text a week before, nervous. Short, to the point.

He’d never actually expected a reply.

Alexander left it there though. Sipped his Tea, ate slowly, still feeling sluggish and lethargic. It felt like, sometimes, that even if he got a full night’s rest, it took him longer than usual to really wake up. Thomas was the cranky one that hated mornings; Alexander could handle it just fine.

After he was done, a few tomato slices still sitting on the plate, Alexander shuffled through the kitchen into the nursery, phone in hand, bored. Walked over and opened the curtains, the bright light of a sunny day seeping in. Sat down in the rocking chair, right on the edge, his shoulders slumped. Heart in his throat a little, every time he came in here. Even when he wasn’t sure about the whole baby thing, sitting in the nursery always had a weird effect on him. Like anticipation. Always poised. For Thomas, for the baby.

The pram that Eliza had gifted was sitting by the closet, already set up. They’d both thanked her profusely, grateful. It was versatile, the way that the carrier was detachable from the entire frame. A big, open basket down the bottom, with little hooks on the side for bags. It was clearly only meant for babies. Maybe a tiny toddler. She’d made a point of mentioning that there were other pieces that could attach. A bigger carrier for a toddler, when the time came. It was all very dainty in its shape and design.

It reminded him of something, briefly. A thing they hadn’t talked about yet. Alexander stood from the chair and walked over to it. Put his hands on the bar, peered down into the carrier, trying to picture a little baby smothered in blankets and stuffed toys. Unlocked his phone and sent a quick _Car seat for the baby??_ To Thomas. They’d need one of those, whether they had a car or not.

Then he pulled open the closet. Stared at the coat hangers, all full of tiny outfits, all in different shades. One of the shelves had shoes, when he pulled out a drawer, there were her tiny jumpsuits, her little sleeping bag dresses. Another drawer with swaddling blankets. A few pacifiers, teething gel, nappies, all sat within her changing table. Baby formula in the kitchen, a designated little cabinet with several bottles, bibs, burping cloths. They had every kind of cream, vitamin, painkiller possible for a new-born. Alexander turned, stared at the crib, the bed made, the linen with it’s grey and white stripes. A starship mobile, a stuffed unicorn, a plush BB-8 from Hercules all sitting on the slip of a pillow.

They had everything, he was sure. Why did time feel so slow? Like the future was barely in reach, but the past had come upon them so fast they’d barely had time to adjust. Like everything felt fast and slow at the same time.   

His phone vibrated, rattling in his hand. Alexander thumbed it open, selected the new message from Thomas.

_09:33  
They don’t sell them at Whole foods. Anything else?_

Alexander almost rolled his eyes. Breathed out an amused sigh. Opened the window a fraction before he retreated back into his own room to prepare for a shower. His phone vibrated the moment he let it drop down onto his bed. A continuous noise that told him it was ringing. Alexander picked it back up, nerves high for a slight second. Stared down at the screen.

Oh.

Alexander swiped his finger against the screen to answer it.

“Hi,” he murmured. There was immediate noise in the background. The sound of people rushing past, soft murmurs. Soft breathing.

“Hi,” Angelica answered back. Sounded a little hesitant.

Silence filled the space between them for a few seconds. Awkward silence, where Alexander only frowned and listened to muffled conversations.

Alexander hadn’t heard her voice in almost two weeks.

“Are you okay?” He asked, although he already knew the answer.

“I…” she cut herself off. Went silent for a few more seconds, both of them quiet. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

Alexander bit his lip. Sat down on the edge of the bed and waited. Wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say to her.

“I spoke to mum last night,” she told him. The conversation in the background started to get fainter. “She wanted to start talking about us coming up.”

Alexander’s leg started to bounce a little. “Us? Like, all of us?”

A soft sigh. “Yeah. You, me. Thomas.”

Alexander smiled.

Angelica sighed suddenly. A grating thing that made her sound like she was frustrated. “Can you meet me?” She asked, her tone impatient. “For dinner.”

Alexander’s face screwed up. Didn’t know what she had to be frustrated about. Stopped bouncing his leg and laid back against the sheets instead.

“Please,” she whispered, soft. “You and Thomas, if neither of you are busy. Just to talk.”

Alexander stared up at the ceiling. “When?”

“Thursday,” she said in a rush. Like she’d already been thinking about it. “I’m in Shanghai until Thursday morning.”

“Just us three?” He asked redundantly. He missed her. Achingly so. Needed some sort of confirmation that they were okay. Didn’t understand why it had taken her so long.

“Of course,” she answered. Alexander sat back up.

“Okay. Send me details,” he told her. Got up and pulled open a drawer. “I’ll ask Thomas if he’s busy.”

Angelica was quiet for a few seconds, breathing gently. “How’s the baby?”

Alexander made a face, careful. “Good,” he answered, hand instinctively going to his stomach. “She kicks so much, now.”

A laugh on the other end, quiet. Alexander smiled at how good it was to hear.

“I bet.” A pause. “I’m glad.”

 They both stilled, everything going quiet. Alexander had a million questions to ask, but they couldn’t seem to make it to his tongue.

“I better go,” Angelica murmured, trailing off. Alexander frowned.

“Thanks for calling,” he said gently. Heard her little sigh on the end.

“Sure. Talk soon,” and then the line went dead, and Alexander let his hand fall to the bed, his phone dropping somewhere in the sheets. Sat up, rubbed a hand over his face.

* * *

 

After that, the week was kind of a blur. The way it always was, when Alexander was slowly counting down the days to the twenty-eighth of June. Each Thursday was a new week, each step closer. Monday came by and Alexander was hit with a burst of inspiration. Disappeared into his room for the rest of the night once he got home. Sat on his bed, pulled up his shirt, took a picture, his phone leaning against the desk. His notebook, full of scribbles and lines, where he sat and wrote until Thomas knocked on the door and asked whether he wanted dinner.

Dragged himself to John and Hercules’s apartment on Tuesday. The thing that Peggy had planned. Sat in the armchair and switched controllers with her each round of Mario Kart, the way they always did. Told them about the upcoming prenatal classes. When his baby kicked, Hercules was the first to feel it, and the look of pure shock that passed his face was so comical that it took Alexander a full minute to stop laughing.

Wednesday was a night in. A boring one where Alexander didn’t want to look at his laptop or his phone, despite how much he needed to. A book in hand, his mind on Angelic.

Most of the time, Thomas would come in around eight-thirty, still kind of in work mode. Since halfway through his second trimester, Alexander made it a habit to leave work by six. They both had the habit of eating late, it worked well. Alexander would work, but mostly not. Write, set something up on Netflix. Lately, he’d gotten into the habit of snacking and then not eating dinner.

Thomas was barely in the door when Alexander straightened up on the couch and ended the call with Philip, still scowling.

“All right,” he muttered, a little annoyed. “You win.”

A laugh and then Thomas came in. Dropped his bag by the table, loosened his tie, smiling. “Of course I did,” he commented, and Alexander threw him a look before he went back to his laptop.

Thomas disappeared into his bedroom, the door ajar. Alexander pulled up his email, started writing one out to Syalla.

“Wait, what did I win?” Thomas called from the bedroom, a few minutes after. Came back out in a violet tee shirt and slacks.

Alexander didn’t look at him. “The hospital,” he muttered. Put a hand on his stomach. It prompted Thomas to move. Set himself up on the sofa next to Alexander. One leg pulled up so that Thomas could sit facing him. Leaned close and wormed a hand underneath Alexander’s. Little kicks, weak ones. Sometimes she was still going when he went to bed, but never for very long.

“Philip thinks I’m weak,” he explained. Leaned out so that he could put his laptop on the coffee table. Slumped back in his seat. “He said that as soon as Catherine was in the bath, she was a million times better. Even though they had a home birth for all three of them.”

Alexander didn’t want a home birth. Ever.

Thomas grinned, cheeky. Pulled a face a little, like he was at least trying not. “You _are_ a bit weak,” he chuckled. Alexander slapped a hand against his arm.

Baby tumbled around, Thomas’s hand rubbing in circles. They both went quiet. Alexander closed his eyes momentarily, head back, relaxed.

“You want dinner?” He asked, quiet. Had the pasta bake still warming in the oven and he was starting to get hungry himself.

He got up then. Placed a lingering hand over Thomas’s as he did so, both of them sliding from Alexander’s bump. Hauled himself up past the sofa and into the kitchen. Took the oven mitts from the counter and turned the oven off. Set the two plates closer, both of them mostly covered in salad leaves and baby corn.

Thomas came to stand next to him. Alexander heated at the hand that settled along his back.

“Is that cheese?” He asked, watching Alexander take the glass dish from the oven and set it on the stove top.

Alexander battered him gently out of the way with one of the mitts. “It’s vegan cheese. Grab the knives and forks for me?”

Thomas chuckled, and Alexander listened to him do just that, one of the drawers opening and closing. Took a metal spatula and started dividing the pasta into squares.

“Hey,” Thomas started, and Alexander’s brows furrowed, concentrating. Wasn’t really paying attention until both plates were served.

“Hm,” he answered, setting the spatula in the sink. He made a grab at the plates to set them on the table. Almost jumped when Thomas took hold of both his wrists, his arms curling around Alexander’s waist, and pressed a lingering kiss over Alexander’s scent gland all before Alexander could say anything.

“What are you doing?” Alexander muttered, half-hearted in his initial attempt at pushing away. Not when Thomas was right there, leaning over him, his mouth gentle against Alexander’s skin so much that it tickled.

“Nothing,” Thomas chuckled, and Alexander tried to bunch his shoulder up and away. Flushed as Thomas smoothed his mouth over that spot, over his scent gland, his lips wet.

A barely there attempt at stepping away, despite how much it tickled, because Alexander’s instinct was to do the opposite. To open his neck further, let Thomas do what he wanted.

A tongue curled against his skin, stubble poking into his neck. A sensation that made Alexander shiver, his skin pulling into goosebumps. He shook his wrist from Thomas’s grip and threaded it into through his hair. Wasn’t anticipating the smile that curled over his mouth.

“Can you stop?” He murmured, not sounding the least bit serious. Thomas nuzzled close, his hands curling on the underside of Alexander’s bump, and Alexander felt overwhelmed with the heat that settled low in his stomach. Bit his lip, almost embarrassed.

“Give me a kiss first,” Thomas replied, and Alexander could hear the cheek in his tone, the amusement. It was enough for Alexander to lean forward and away from Thomas’s mouth. To turn his head and give Thomas an unimpressed look.

“Do you want dinner, or not?” He asked, his hand falling from Thomas’s hair. Despite his question, he turned. Shifted so that he was facing Thomas. Caught the grin that was set over his mouth and couldn’t help the half-hearted scowl that formed over his brows. He reached out anyway, his fingers coming back through Thomas’s hair.

“Not,” Thomas muttered, and then he leaned down and put his mouth over Alexander’s in a slow, open-mouthed kiss. Alexander barely processed the word before his eyes fluttered closed out of habit. Breathed a quiet noise of satisfaction into Thomas’s mouth that he was barely embarrassed about. Sank into it when the rasp of a tongue against his bottom lip. Forgot how long it had been since he’d last had this.

He felt Thomas move, but Alexander was barely invested. Too set kissing Thomas slowly, lips wet against each other, that he barely felt that hands that came and laid themselves over both sides of his face. Retaliated by shifting his own grip, his mind where else. One hand curled into the hair at the base of Thomas’s neck, the other coming up to sit over his collarbone, skin warm where Alexander pressed his fingers close to the base of Thomas’s neck.

He didn’t mean for it to go like that, to last so long. Thomas’s pressed them so close, kissed him a little harder, their teeth clicking slightly, that Alexander felt like he was re-acquainting himself with it. Forgot about dinner for a second while Thomas shifted, their noses bumping into each other. Alexander held on tighter, almost feeling like he was too short, that he had to pull Thomas down further so that he could reciprocate. Breathed hard through his nose and in the milliseconds that their mouths were apart.

Thomas shifted slightly. Moved in as close as he could with Alexander’s stomach in the way. Pressed in a little harder, Alexander’s head falling back a little more so that he could lean down. With it, with the way Thomas leaned into him a bit more, came something hot and heavy that sat just underneath Alexander’s skin. When Thomas licked into him, tongue catching against Alexander’s own, Alexander coloured at the soft moan that he breathed out. Felt tense, his desire magnified. Curled his fingers tighter, his head falling back a little.

Their soft, open kisses turning into something a little more. The noise that came out of Alexander was so stark between them, and Thomas made a ragged one of his own. Pressed in until Alexander had nowhere else to go, his hips back against the kitchen counter. Kissed him a little harder, a little wetter. Dug his finger right into Alexander’ scent gland and groaned when Alexander bit softly at his lip. Wasted time doing just that, pressing against each other as much as possible, breathe shuddering.

The bump was the problem. Alexander almost felt itchy with how much he wanted Thomas to press him back. Have them so close that Alexander could hook his fingers around Thomas’s hip, curled around his back where the skin was warm and hard. He couldn’t because his stomach stuck out too far now, but Alexander heated with the thought of pulling Thomas close enough that he could feel everything. Press his teeth over Thomas’s collarbone while Alexander felt him harden. Tease by bringing his hands back around and teasing his fingers into Thomas’s waistband.

There was a lapse in what they were doing, where Thomas pulled back and did what he’d first done. Leaned down with his lips over Alexander’s throat, his tongue hot against Alexander’s skin. Alexander had enough time to suck in a breath before he jolted, his back arching slightly. Thomas put his mouth over Alexander’s scent gland and bit gently, and Alexander felt his whole body waver, his toes curling.

“Thomas,” he whispered, too quiet, breathless. Used the fact that Thomas was bent down a little more and hooked his elbow around Thomas’s neck like he’d wanted. Felt the blunt, sensitive sensation of Thomas’s teeth, digging gently into the gland. Bit his lip while he held on, his skin buzzing every time Thomas pulled up to press his tongue there.

It was vastly overshadowed by the fact that Alexander could feel himself getting hard.

“Thomas,” he muttered again, a little more heart in it. Curled his fingers into the short hair at Thomas’s nape and smiled softly. “Dinner.”

Thomas got it because Alexander felt him chuckle against his neck, felt the exhale of air against his wet and aching skin. Breathed out steadily himself when Thomas peppered kisses down closer to his collarbone.

“I’m not hungry,” he muttered, amused. His tone was rough though, as if he had something caught in his throat. So bad that it made Alexander’s ache so much worse.

If he was honest, neither was Alexander. It had been there before, his appetite. Now, with Thomas pressed to close to him, both of them breathing loudly, the air charged the way it was, Alexander couldn’t recall that hunger he’d previously felt.

His grip changed, his arm loosening a little as Thomas pressed those same small kisses to Alexander’s lips again. Soft, barely there, the sound loud in the silence of the kitchen. Softer, slower, no less heavy. It forced a weight into his legs that he couldn’t quite get rid of. Alexander’s eyes fluttered; he could feel Thomas’s smile.

Then, instead of against his back where they’d been sitting, warm hands came up to cup the back of Alexander’ neck, and Alexander couldn’t help but smile back into the kiss.

“Come to bed with me,” Thomas muttered against him, and Alexander was in such a daze that it honestly took him a few seconds until he understood what that meant.

He laughed; it was a nervous reaction if anything. It burst forth against Thomas’s lips, brought light to the bubble of joy that Alexander hadn’t noticed before. He didn’t open his eyes, but the kisses died down a little, lips brushing against each other if anything, and Alexander could feel Thomas’s grin widen.

“Okay,” he whispered. Pressed another kiss to Thomas’s lips, that maybe Thomas hadn’t been expecting, because he only barely reacted. “Take me to bed then.”

And it wasn’t really a joke, but he wasn’t expecting Thomas to mean it.

Thomas chuckled again; a sweet noise that made Alexander’s cheeks hurt with how wide he smiled. He was waiting for the catch, for Thomas to back up so that they could finally eat. He was waiting for another kiss, if anything, both of them steady against each other.

Except, Thomas pulled back a little further than necessary. Enough that it dislodged the hold that Alexander had against him. It caused Alexander to startle a little bit, eyes opening, his smile faltering just a little.

In the light of the kitchen, Thomas was still smiling, his lips a satisfying red. He was giving Alexander a look that made Alexander more aware of how hard he was.

“What?” Alexander asked, his voice a little rough, his cheeks colouring. Thomas’s grin widened a little before he dislodged further. Took one of Alexander’s hands instead. Stepped back until he was all but dragging Alexander out of the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” Alexander asked, a little excited. Let himself be led to Thomas’s bedroom, his heart in his throat. There’d always been that little seed of disbelief in his chest. The one that told him that there was no way Thomas was going to want to actually have sex with him in his current state. He could feel it tug at him a little.

“You’re being serious?” He had to ask, even as the bedroom light flickered on, and Thomas ignored him so that he could swing the door closed.

“Were _you_ being serious?” Thomas retorted, turning back to Alexander, his expression still that of amusement. He leaned in close again. Took Alexander by the hips, thumbs against the side of Alexander’s stomach.

Alexander flushed suddenly, his heart migrating to his throat as Thomas leaned in close enough that their lips brushed against each other.

“I’m twenty-nine weeks pregnant, you really want to go there?” He asked jokingly, something close to self-sabotage. He was aching for both of them to be naked, to press his hands to Thomas’s warm skin. Press his lips against Thomas’s thighs, his hips. He wanted it so bad, but he wasn’t quite so confident that it would work.

Thomas leaned in, angled his head so that his next words were spoken against Alexander’s lips.

“I really want to,” he said, and Alexander shuddered, his eyes fluttering closed. He leaned in for the kiss that was pressed to his lips, expecting it to be soft.

It was, teeth digging into his mouth a little, but only until Thomas took one of his hands. Guided it until Alexander’s palm sat flat against the very obvious hard on in the front of his slacks.

And then Alexander was sucking in a breath, flushed all over. Almost felt like he was in heat, the way it hit him. Hooked his arm back around Thomas’s neck with his unoccupied arm.

“Okay,” he murmured, actual excitement, arousal bursting forth. “Okay.”

And then it was more like a race, like a competition. Thomas bit his lip less than softly, and Alexander just _had_ to retaliate. Pressed as close as he could get and used his fingers to run over Thomas’s clothed hard-on. Just the very tips, up and down, his touch only hard enough that it would come across as more of a tease. Was less worried about his own situation if it meant he could touch Thomas like this.

Thomas spread his palms flat against Alexander’s back for a few seconds. Ran them up and down softly, seemingly invested in kissing the life out of Alexander with just the rough pull of his teeth alone. Then his hands started to migrate, his touch light. Further and further over his hips until his thumbs smoothed directly over the front of Alexander’s pants, almost directly where Alexander wanted them to be. Alexander made a noise in his throat unintentionally, a soft whimper, barely audible. Thomas heard it though; pulled back to grin against Alexander damp lips.

Alexander paused. Brought his hands up, instead, to paw at the bottom of Thomas’s shirt a little. Pressed his fingers against the hard muscle of Thomas’s abdomen and breathed out a groan, his eyes still closed.

“Take this off,” Alexander said, almost giddy. Was surprisingly invested in getting Thomas’s as naked as he possibly could.

Thomas chuckled, which made Alexander’s eyes flutter open a little. Thomas pressed a quick kiss to his lips, grinning. Dropped his hands from Alexander, leaned back a little. Alexander’s toes curled at the heated look Thomas gave him before he brought his hands up and pulled his shirt over his head.

Alexander’s eyes flickered down, then. Missed the way Thomas almost elbowed him as he was dropping the garment simply because he was too distracted. Ran his hands further up the taut muscle of Thomas’s stomach, fingers curling around his ribs.

It was an odd feeling, how easy it was to touch Thomas the way he was, how natural it felt. Even when Thomas leaned in and pressed his lips under Alexander's ear, fingers brushing his hair back. It was usually done in the heat of the moment. Fast, so neither of them really had to think about the fact that they were actually doing it.

It wasn’t evident though, to Alexander’s relief. He dropped his hands down to Thomas’s slacks and hooked his thumbs into it, right over the button and zipper, itching. He had no desire to rush and, more importantly, didn’t feel like he needed to. Didn’t feel that overabundance of embarrassment that came with it.

It felt good in a way Alexander didn’t know it could.

Thomas’s hands came around just as Alexander started teasing again, and Alexander was vaguely aware of his shirt loosening around him until he felt Thomas’s fingers running over the buttons. Pulled back a little, his own hands coming up to circle Thomas’s wrists where he was poised to undo another button. His brows pulled down a little. Fast, doubt hitting him suddenly for the first time in a while.

“Wait,” he started, and then flushed, completely embarrassed. Thomas pulled back, his lips making a wet sound against Alexander skin, his hands idle in Alexander’s grip. Gave Alexander a slightly harried look.

“Turn off the light,” he said, and he made sure to keep eye contact while he did it. Knew how red his cheeks must have been, his jaw tense. Gave him a reserved look.

It was a very sudden thing, his confidence plummeting the moment Thomas could possibly see him even partly naked. There were times when he was always aware of it, the weight he’d put on, the stretch marks, the way his stomach stuck out so much. He was usually pretty good at convincing himself that he didn’t care.

It was completely out of his control, though. How much he feared Thomas seeing him out of his clothes.

He really, _really_ didn’t want that.

It took Thomas back, too. Alexander watched his brows rise a little, mildly surprised, silent. Alexander expected something. A comment, maybe. A word of affirmation. He almost cringed with how much he expected it.

Instead, Thomas only stood there for a second more before he brought his hands gently out from Alexander’s grip and gave him a warm look.

“Go lay on the bed,” he said, his tone tilting up a little, like he was asking, instead. Then he stepped back, and Alexander flushed with the biggest amount of gratitude as Thomas shuffled over to the edge of the bedroom door. Alexander had only a second to take a few steps closer to the mattress until there was a click, and the light disappeared completely.

It took him a second to get used to it, but it wasn’t too hard because of the light still streaming in through the open curtains on the wall to his left. Closer than Alexander was sure he was comfortable with, considering he could still make out most of what the room looked like.

“Better?” Thomas asked, and then there was a pair of arms circling around his waist, settling on his stomach, a hot breath in his ear. Alexander had nothing to say to that, but only more so because Thomas pressed himself right up against Alexander back, and Alexander could very prominently feel Thomas’s hard cock pressed into him.

It made Alexander’s “yeah,” stutter a little. More so when Thomas went back to undressing him, his fingers fast over the buttons of Alexander’s work shirt. Alexander shrugged himself out of it, his embarrassment disappearing faster and faster as Thomas buried himself into Alexander’s neck, right up against him. Fingers moved further down, teasingly light.

And then that whole entire feeling was gone as if it had never appeared, because Alexander felt like he was almost _too_ hot, desire rushing through him. Thomas pressed his palm flat to Alexander’s cock, and Alexander took his wrist just for something to hold onto and whined low in his throat.

“Good?” Thomas asked, a chuckle in his tone, and Alexander was too turned on to flush. Concentrated on guiding Thomas’s hand instead. Placed his fingers over the tops and pressed in harder, moving in circles. The pressure made Alexander almost want to _sob_.

“No. Terrible,” he muttered sarcastically, and grinned proudly when Thomas laughed. Let Thomas pull his hand from Alexander’s own, and then he was going for Alexander fly. The button undone, the zip down all before Alexander really notice. Breathed hard when Thomas hooked his thumbs into the waistband of Alexanders briefs and pulled both garments down at the same time. Let them drop there to Alexander’s ankles.

Alexander had to whine when his cock, so hard it ached, bobbed against his outstretched stomach. Fisted it and pulled himself off a little roughly, sighing. A hand came up to fist in his hair, hard enough that it surprised him. Thomas pulled, and the ache against his scalp made him moan outright, his cheeks flushing. Was guided to the side, his head twisting, until he could lean back enough for their lips to come together.

A kiss that was short and sweet. Had Alexander panting, his legs almost feeling like jelly, until Thomas had enough. Pulled Alexander’s arms away from his cock and put a hand over the curve of Alexander abdomen.

“Do you need help getting on the bed?” He asked, humour in his tone. Alexander scoffed.

“I’ll be all right. Thanks,” he muttered. Made at pulling away until Thomas took him by the hair again. Turned his head and kissed Alexander more with a grin this time, less like an actual kiss.

“Do you want me to suck your dick, or not?” Alexander muttered, going for indifferent despite how much his own sentence hit him. Really, really wanted Thomas to let Alexander suck his dick.

Instead, Thomas laughed, his mouth against Alexander’s jaw. “I’d like to see you try and get down on your knees, though,” he chuckled, and the whole thing was so ridiculous, and Alexander was feeling so giddy with his own arousal, that he had to laugh as well.

“Help me,” he muttered quietly, though, pulling away a little. He was close to the bed, the light bright enough that he could recognize the duvet cover.

“Get on your knees?” Thomas asked, sounding closer to serious. Took Alexander’s waist and let himself be pulled to the edge of the bed.

Alexander flushed, an idea in his head, his own arousal forgotten for the time being. “Shut up,” he muttered, distracted with his own fantasy. Turned, instead, to face Thomas. Ignored his grin and took both his wrists.

Thomas was quiet, to Alexander’s surprise, as Alexander pulled him where he wanted him, right up against the edge of the bed, their positions switched.

“I’m actually going to, though,” Alexander muttered, and took hold of Thomas’s forearm, his other hand running over Thomas’s fly.

Thomas leaned in and kisses him chastely. “What?” He muttered back. Alexander chuckled.

“Help me down,” he started. Tacked on a “please,” while he held tight to Thomas’s forearm, and bent his knees.

He didn’t bother to watch Thomas’s expression, his eyes mostly on what he was really after. Thomas made a surprised noise in his throat, his arm straightening out and flexing once he realised that Alexander was actually getting down on his knees.

“Wait, seriously?” He said, almost incredulous. His tone made Alexander grin as his back groaned a little, his knees rubbing against the soft rug by Thomas’s bed. Settled down comfortably, his face level with Thomas’s waistband. He bit his lip, his mouth filling with saliva.

And then he let go of Thomas’s arm so that he could wrap them around Thomas’s thighs instead. Used his grip to bring Thomas closer. Close so that he could press his lips right on the edge of Thomas’s slacks, the skin of his abdomen hot underneath Alexander’s mouth. The trail of scratchy hair ticked his nose a little as he inhaled Thomas’s natural scent, his own cock aching.

“Alex,” Thomas responded to that, a hand brushing against the side of Alexander’s ear. Alexander stopped for a second because he could almost feel what Thomas wanted to say.

“Don’t,” he muttered, mouthing along the edge of Thomas’s slacks, a hand coming up to smooth of his cock. Almost groaned at the soft noise Thomas made. “I want to.”

He did. He really, really did. Brought his other hand up so that he could start pulling at Thomas’s fly. A hand curled further into his hair. Alexander couldn’t look up.

“If you get uncomfortable…” Thomas started as Alexander pulled down the zipper.

“I’ll tell you,” Alexander finished for him, his tongue coming out to wet his lips, his breath a little laboured, excited. Hooked his fingers into Thomas’s briefs and pulled at them. Stuck a hand in to wrap his fingers around the hot skin of Thomas’s shaft and pull it out past the waistband as he let them fall the rest of the way down. Brought both hands up to wrap around it, the dark skin only a little visible in the light.

His mind was elsewhere, then. His own hardness was barely noticed as he let his fingers run over the head of Thomas’s cock, the firmness of it making his breath stutter. His thumb smoothed over the slit, and Alexander was almost taken with Thomas’s laboured breathing if it hadn’t been for the wetness he found there. Swiped his thumb over it a little firmer, his tongue darting out to touch his top lip. He breathed hard for a second, his eyes fluttering closed. Then he moved further, his tongue out, and pressed it right over the head.

The pre was salty, unpleasant the way he remembered it. He flattened his tongue and pressed in harder. Ran it up and down a little, right over the slit, breathing hard. Barely noticed the fingers that curled into his hair. Swirled his tongue for a moment before he leaned in all the way and took just the head into his mouth. Sucked as hard as he could, like he had a sweet in his mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” Thomas groaned, only it was breathless and drawn out and Alexander grinned at the pride that unfurled in his chest. Tampered down his smile so that he could take a little more in his mouth, teasing a little. Built up a little rhythm for a few moments. Up and down, up and down, slow enough over the head that he could swirl his tongue against the top.

Thomas made a different noise, almost inaudible. A sigh, his hands curling a little more purposefully into Alexander's hair until he had thick chunks of strands in a tight grip, nails digging a little into Alexander’s scalp.

It was a good enough encouragement for Alexander to shift. Brought his hands to the back of Thomas’s thighs and flattened his tongue down. Took more of Thomas’s cock into his mouth, breathing calmly from his nose. Spurred on by the burning in his scalp as he built up a different sort of rhythm. Took Thomas in as much as he could, as far as he could go. Slow enough that he wouldn’t gag. Kept his mouth as tight as possible as he paused for a slight moment. Enough time to collect himself before he was drawing back, mouth exceedingly wet. Pulled back until he could suck on just the head again.

He drew back a little, his back aching already. Cleared his throat a little.

“Could you sit?” He asked, almost out of breath, his eyes fluttering open so that he could look up a little.

Thomas took his hands out of Alexander’s hair. Eyes fluttering open as well, his face slack. Looked a little more alive when he caught Alexander’s gaze.

“You okay?” He asked, snapping to attention, almost like he’d been on a whole different plane of existence for the last minute or so.

“Yeah,” Alexander muttered, hands on Thomas’s hips. “Lay back on the bed.”

It barely took Thomas a second; he shuffled back the tiniest bit so that he could sit down on the edge. Alexander followed him, shuffling on his knees until he was right there in between them.

“Lay back,” he repeated, a hand automatically wrapping around Thomas’s shaft. The bed was lower, which was going to make getting a good angle difficult unless Thomas wasn’t in the way.

Thomas did just that without another word. Settled down so that he was leaning all the way back, down on his elbows so that he could still watch Alexander.

Alexander leaned forward, his mind still on the task, and leaned down, his knees shifting, his back aching a little less. Didn’t bother teasing. Took the head of Thomas’s cock back into his both, his tongue flattened down again. Sunk down as far as he could go. Pulled back up and did it again, his own cock still aching. Alexander put his arms over Thomas’s thighs, let his hands sit flat against Thomas’s abdomen and concentrated on just bobbing his head, keeping his mouth as tight as he could.

Thomas settled back into the duvet, back flat so that he could bring his hands back into Alexander’s hair, his breathing ragged. Alexander almost groaned, enjoying himself. Listened to Thomas steadily lose it above him as he kept his rhythm going, faster and faster, his jaw twitching. He didn’t think he’d enjoy it as much as he was, the weight on his tongue, the taste. Ached with how powerful it made him feel, with the hitches in Thomas’s breathing as Alexander wrapped a hand around what he could and concentrated on bobbing up and down mostly over the head. The pre in his mouth only grew thicker, until he had to swallow a little more excessively.

There was a point, then, when Alexander flicked his tongue over the slit again, as hard as he could, and Thomas’s hips raised from the bed a little, a rough groan spilling out.

“Alex, baby,” Thomas breathed, fingers tight in Alexander’s hair, and Alexander angled his head, pressed his tongue up against Thomas’s shaft and outright _moaned_ at how good that felt. Flushed, his cock twitching, aching, his whole body turning into something warm and gooey.

 _Baby_. That’s what he wanted Thomas to call him. Baby. _His_ baby.

He shuffled forward, ignoring the ache in his back, his bump making things a little more difficult. Went all out, eager. Tightened his fingers around Thomas shaft and bobbed up and down as fast as he could, breathing loud, the noises he was making a little obscene.

Admittedly, it didn’t take Thomas long. His breathing got a lot more ragged until the point where every other breath came out as a quiet groan. Alexander kept his hands flat against Thomas’s hips so that he wouldn’t be tempted to move them again. Shifted a little until he’d paused every time he came up so that he could circle the head with his tongue.

It almost startled him, then, when Thomas’s hips shifted, the hands in his hair tightening to the point that it started to hurt. One of his knees raised a little; enough that his foot bumped against Alexander’s thigh where it was bent. Spread them a little wider, toes curled where Thomas left his foot to rest on Alexander’s hip.

“Fuck,” he breathed, then shifted. “I’m going to come, baby,” he warned, most of it slurred.

Alexander hummed, eyes opening a little, although he couldn’t see anything. Almost hesitated as his mind started to scramble. Almost convinced himself he could just keep going and swallow it all if he didn’t know just how much Thomas could come.

Instead, he shifted. Kept his hand going, only, he angled his head at a more extreme degree. Moved so that instead of taking Thomas’s cock into his mouth, he could seal his lips over the side. Dug his tongue in where he could, his whole jaw aching by that point.

Thomas made a noise in his throat, his hips shifting. Alexander almost groaned himself when Thomas finally came. Listened to the drawn-out moan as his cock twitched, and Alexander only had a second to move out of the way, his hand taking over before Thomas was spilling out over his own stomach, Alexander’s hand. Long, thin lines that landed over his ribs, his sternum, his cock twitching.

Alexander watched as best as he could from on his knees, listening to the quiet, wounded noises Thomas was making, the last flecks of come streaming over Alexander’s still moving fingers. He kept going, his grip a little looser. Listened to Thomas come down from it, his head back. Fingers drew back from his hair, Alexander’s scalp aching. Settled back down on the mattress only long enough for a rest before Thomas was squirming, Alexander hand still pulling him off slowly. A knee lifted up, like Thomas was trying to curl in on himself, his head raising up to shoot Alexander a dirty look. Alexander laughed as a hand swatted at his wrist until he let go of Thomas’s softening cock. Settled back down on his legs and tried to stretch his aching back out.

Thomas let out a lazy, satisfied sigh that had Alexander smiling with pride. There was a secret satisfaction that came with knowing what he’d just done.

He had to place his weight against the edge of the mattress, just in between Thomas’s thighs, so that he could stretch out a little more, all his aches making themselves known now that he had nothing else to concentrate on. He brought a hand up, though. Smoothed his palm over Thomas’s knee. Listened to Thomas’s breathing even out more and more.

Thomas let out another deep sigh before he pitched himself back up on his elbows, his limbs slow and lethargic. Brought himself up until he was sitting all the way up, a sneaky grin on his face. Gave Alexander a sweet smile.

“Come here,” he said, a hand coming down to tangle into Alexander’s hair. Pressed his lips over Alexander’s with more enthusiasm than Alexander thought he might have. A tongue that snuck passed his lips, like Thomas was trying to draw back the taste.

Kept it short and sweet, especially when Alexander waved his soiled hand about a little impatiently. Laughed when he pulled back. Took Alexander by the elbows wordlessly as he stood, helping Alexander onto his feet as well.

“Let me grab you a tissue,” he offered, urging Alexander closer to the bed. Alexander hummed, took a seat on the edge, his arousal a little more noticeable. Watched Thomas move around the bed, his naked skin looking enticing in the light cast from the window.

“Come up here,” Thomas said, on the right side of the mattress, pulling a few tissues from the box on the drawers.

Alexander moved from the end. A little awkwardly the way he dragged himself as he half watched Thomas open a drawer, pull something out that he couldn’t quite see. Met Thomas there, who clambered back on the bed and sat. Reached for Alexander’s hand so that he could clean it.

A poor job, but Alexander could hardly complain. He was too eager, pulled his hand back so that he could grab at Thomas’s neck, pull him closer. Returned Thomas’s grin where it was pressed into his lips. Thomas pressed a hand to his face for a moment or two, the kiss easy and languid. Drew back and reached out for Alexander’s hand.

“Come here,” he said again, pulling back a little further. Laid back against the pillows on his back, an arm out. Alexander followed him down at a slower pace, braces his elbow against the bed first, and then onto his back, cuddled right up over Thomas’s bicep.

“I need to lay on my side,” he said, shifting.

“It’s okay,” Thomas responded, shifting onto his side as well. Moving until they were both comfortable, facing each other, with Thomas’s arm under Alexander’s head, his fingers in Alexander’s hair. In the light, Alexander could see the warmth in his eyes.

He leaned over again so that their lips met. Pressed his fingers to Thomas’s neck, curled them around. Had to angle his head so that they fit together a little easier.

It was a nuisance, not to be able to shift closer. Alexander wanted to stretch out all the way. Wrap a leg over Thomas’s hip, arch forward so that he could get some friction over Thomas’s abdomen. Wanted them as close as they could be. Wanted Thomas to turn him over onto his back, cover himself over Alexander until neither of them could get any closer.

The thing in Thomas’s hand ended up being lube, Alexander realised. Eyes closed, his tongue over Thomas’s lip, but he felt Thomas moving, heard the sound of a cap. Pressed his palm to Thomas’s shoulder and fluttered back a little, both of their movements slow, easy. Pressed his lips to Thomas’s stubble over and over while Thomas turned his head a little so that he could see what he was doing.

The first touch against his cock was cold, abrupt. Alexander’s breath hitched quietly, his mouth pausing. Felt something fall to the bed behind him, and then Thomas was kissing him again, his fingers wrapping sharply around Alexander.

He didn’t pause to take his time like Alexander had, didn’t tease around. Alexander had to curl his toes, breathed out a quiet groan as Thomas made a tight ring with his thumb and finger. Squeezed around the head of Alexander’s cock, almost frictionless with the amount of lube on his hand. Passed his thumb over the top, circled around the slit, and Alexander made a soft, desperate noise in his throat, almost too sensitive. Felt Thomas grin against his lips.

“This what you want, baby?” Thomas murmured into the space between their lips, and Alexander shuddered, his eyes closed, his cheeks flushed.

“Faster,” Alexander answered, muscles tightening with the sensation. “Please,” he tacked on because he didn’t want Thomas to tease around it, he just wanted to come.

“Yeah,” Thomas murmured, almost inaudible, and then his grip shifted, and he kept his strokes to just the head of Alexander cock. Slow first, the pace picking up. Used the arm around Alexander’s head to bring him back into a kiss.

And Alexander was surprised by how easy it was. Thomas’s grip, the almost unhurried way he pulled Alexander off made the muscles in Alexander’s legs relax. Held on tight as he could, his fingers curled over Thomas’s neck, his breath coming harder and harder. Didn’t realise how close he was to coming until his abdomen started to burn, his toes curling. Could barely respond to Thomas’s kisses, his eyes squeeze shut, poised.

“Going to come, baby?” Thomas rasped, and the words hit Alexander hard, the tell-tail feeling of his lower back burning, so close to the edge.

“Oh, God,” he whispered, almost silently, flushed. Pressed his face down so that Thomas couldn’t look at him.

“I like that,” he admitted, humming. Couldn’t conjure up the effort to be anymore embarrassment than he was. “When you call me that.”

And then Thomas’s hands paused for a moment, a slight delay. Long enough that Alexander made a noise in his throat.

“When I call you baby?” Thomas asked, fingers squeezing. Alexander made a complaintive noise and bumped his hips closer to Thomas.

“Thomas, please,” he whined, his face screwing shut, his face burning, saliva thick in his mouth. His breath hitched when Thomas picked the pace back up again. Pressed his lips to Alexander’s temple, his stubble itching against Alexander’s cheek.

Alexander rocked with it, concentrating on the feeling. Let out a breathy moan as he inched closer and closer, Thomas grip tight over Alexander’s shaft. Dug his teeth into his lip, so close to falling over.

“Mm, that’s it, baby,” Thomas spoke against his temple, almost breathless. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

And then Alexander moaned, loud, his toes flexing out. Came right as a thumb was circling the head on his cock, an electric feeling passing through his nerves. Rocked his hips as his orgasm ripped through him. Felt almost like he was on fire for the few seconds that it lasted. Eyes squeezed shut, gasped as he came down from it.

It was followed by a deep-set lethargy that made him feel like his limbs were made from cement. Had him sinking right back into the mattress, into Thomas’s arm, his breath coming out hard and ragged. The electric feeling faded slowly until Alexander could feel nothing but the buzz in his bones, his legs.

Thomas didn’t tease, didn’t linger. Turned Alexander’s head as soon as he could so that he could press a biting kiss to Alexander’s lips, breathing a little harder than normal. His hand paused, drew away. Peppered a few kisses along the corners of Alexander’s mouth as Alexander tried to catch his breath. Kisses that turned more and more insistent until Alexander was smiling just a little.

He brought his hand up over Thomas’s cheek, head back on Thomas’s arm. Could vaguely feel the dampness that had built up on his temples. Fluttered his eyes open as Thomas’s non-soiled fingers played with the hair by Alexander’s ear.

Alexander hummed a little, something keen and satisfying settling in his chest. Fluttered his eyes open and leaned into the little kiss that Thomas gave him. Brushed their lips together, breath almost steady, smiling.

It was easy to lay like that. The aftermath always came with a deep-set exhaustion that Alexander was loath to fight. Now that his head was a little clearer, Alexander remembered dinner sitting out in the kitchen, all the lights still on. Remembered that they’d been doing something before this had started.

He sat a moment longer though, both of them quiet. Only until Alexander started to feel a little cold. Goosebumps raising as he sucked one last, lingering kiss to Thomas’s lips. Pulled back far enough that Thomas got the picture.

In the light, Thomas was still giving him that warm look. It didn’t make Alexander blush, like he’d been expecting. Didn’t make him feel embarrassed, flushed.

And then Thomas chuckled, shifted a little. Pulled his arm out from Alexander’s head so that he could turn and pull some tissues out from the box.

“Think I’m ready to eat now,” he muttered sarcastically, and Alexander buried his face in the pillow for a few moments and chuckled. A hand came to thread through his hair, and Alexander moved to press his lips to Thomas’s palm.

“I’m going to have to heat it up again,” he responded, lips brushing softly. He peeked over the top of Thomas’s fingers and returned Thomas heated glance, something hot and overwhelming curling into him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm here! Lets get this show back on the road!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this!!!
> 
> First, blame Grammarly, I listened to her.
> 
> Look, I don't actually know if they use pints in the US? I'm an Aussie that lives in London, so...
> 
> Also, I am posting this on the 6th of October, which is the day that Study of Red Pope will be auctioned off by Christies!! I want it!! 
> 
> I had this whole thing planned out where I was going to apologize for not really knowing anything about Omega verse and stuff, but I don't really care now. I think there are a few mistakes, so I'm sorry, I don't know a lot about living in the US and the different terminology, I'm sorry if this is really British.
> 
> Thank you so much!


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